A Game of Mischief
by ivory-sword
Summary: Kyra Winters is crazy. Or so she thought. It isn't until she falls through a portal during the Convergence and finds herself in Asgard that she realizes she has the ability to see through any illusion and tell truth from lies. Meanwhile, a certain Trickster is set on taking the throne of Asgard, and Kyra's ability to see through his illusions could cause him some problems.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note:** Hello, and welcome to my newest story! I've had this one planned for awhile now but wanted to focus on my other Avengers series first. Now that I'm a few chapters away from the ending of the fourth and (probably) penultimate in that series, I decided it was time to dive into new waters. This is a Loki/OC centric story that takes place right after Thor: The Dark World. It's not connected to my other series (yes, I know the title is similar), but please do take a look at my other stories! My Avengers series starts with _A Game of Trust_ and is a Steve/OC story. Loki does make a few appearances.

I'm going to try to be good about updating this story, but you'll have to forgive me as work often gets in the way of my writing. After watching Thor: Ragnarok though, I'm very excited to write a Loki story. Please leave a review and let me know what you think!

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 **A Game of Mischief**

 **Prologue** **–** **November 15, 2013**

 **Greenwich, England**

Studying for finals was supposed to be the most stressful part of Kyra Winters's week not avoiding an alien invasion in the middle of her university's campus. Up until five minutes ago she'd been sitting at one of the tables in the library cramming for a final when the ground had begun to shake. Books were flying off the shelves and students were screaming, their notes and flashcards forgotten. Then the massive _thing_ had come out of nowhere. She supposed it could be called a space ship. It was certainly _not_ from this world. It appeared out of nowhere as if it had come straight from another dimension, and she thought she could see the air rippling around its dark form like waves. If it weren't for the other students reacting to this strange phenomenon, Kyra would have summed it up to needing a new prescription of meds, perhaps a stronger one. She'd seen strange things before during the times she'd rebelled and refused to take her pills. This wasn't some deluded hallucination though. This was very real and coming right at them. Kyra tended to freeze in situations like this – not that she'd ever seen a spaceship come crashing out of nowhere before. When it came to fight or flight, she simply froze. There was no fight, no flight, just a simple process of shutting down and failing to function at all. It was different in her self-defense classes. There she could pretend she was someone different altogether. She shed the layers of insecurity and fear and transformed into a better version of herself. It wasn't just a switch she could turn on and off though.

At one point she was aware of a group of people running through the library carrying equipment and shouting at the students to get away. A boy at the window said something about Thor, and Kyra didn't even blink. Why not? The world was getting flipped upside down anyway; why not throw in some Norse mythology? It wasn't until the windows shattered, sending showers of glass down on the students, that Kyra unfroze. She grabbed her bag and ran. Suddenly her feet couldn't carry her fast enough. Her heart was pounding and all she knew was that she needed to get out of there. None of her years of therapy sessions had prepared her for something like this. None of the years of self-defense lessons had disciplined her enough to deal with what was happening.

She burst out of the library and stopped short. There were alien creatures on the campus outside. They wore armor and silver masks with wide, black eye holes so she couldn't tell what they really looked like. Every one of them carried massive weapons, and Kyra watched as one of them fired. A car flew into the air in a burst of flames. Kyra yelped and then swore as the creatures caught sight of her. Then she was running again, dodging as they fired after her. Her flight sense had finally kicked in, and she had never run so fast in her life. Not since she was a child running from the demons in her head. She turned sharply around the corner of the building and found herself tripping over some rubble. She flew forward and suddenly she was falling. Something rippled around her and the ground vanished altogether. She screamed as she careened into a sandy landscape that had not been there a moment before. Before she had the chance to register the fact that she had fallen into another place entirely, a car came flying through whatever _portal_ she had tripped into. She ducked, losing her footing and rolling down the hill she'd landed on. Then the ground fell away and she realized she had been dropped atop a mountain. The ground rushed to meet her, and she closed her eyes.

The pain never came. Her fingers brushed grass, and she opened her eyes to see that she was no longer in that horrid desert place. She wasn't in Greenwich either though. She was on a grassy hillock that overlooked – here Kyra had to rub her eyes – a city made of shining gold. She stared for several minutes and then pinched her arm to make sure she wasn't dead. This couldn't be an illusion. It felt too real. Even her craziest hallucinations hadn't been this solid, this… _crazy_. She tried to stand, legs a little shaky, and looked up. She could see the portal there, wavering in the air, becoming clearer by the second. A _portal_. She had fallen through a portal into another world. But how was she going to get back? It was high above her head, and she could hardly fly up to it. Shouts distracted her, and she looked over to see a row of armored men appear. They looked different from the aliens that had been attacking her university, but she made no mistake in thinking they were friendly.

"Halt!" one of them called to her. Instead of freezing which might have been the best thing to do at the moment, Kyra tried to run. A blast hit the ground right in front of her feet, and she tripped and fell, grass staining her hands and jeans green. She felt hands grasping her shoulders, pulling her up and restraining her arms.

"Bring her to the king," one of the guards said, and Kyra found herself being roughly pulled toward what was unmistakably a palace. The golden building gleamed in the sunlight, and Kyra felt awe even if it wasn't the right time to appreciate the architecture. Gold spires like giant pipes reached upwards to a peak, and it was like nothing she had ever seen before. Her heart was beating out a nervous tempo as she was pulled into a grand hallway leading up to a throne. There were clear signs of destruction here, but already workers were rebuilding and there was no doubting the magnificence of the hall. She wondered if the same creatures that had attacked her world had attacked this one as well. She'd seen the footage of New York last year; she knew that something more existed out in the universe. Seeing it on TV was one thing. Seeing it in person was quite another. The guards forced her to her knees before a set of steps carpeted in red rugs.

"What do we have here?" came a voice from above her. Her eyes climbed the stairs to the figure sitting in the throne. He was an old man though nothing about him spoke of frailty. His shoulders were proud and his one remaining eye held the hard glint of wisdom that came with having seen many dark times. His other eye was covered by a golden patch.

Kyra remained silent. She knew her voice would give away her fear if she spoke. A guard spoke for her, and she realized he hadn't been addressing her anyway. "We found her trying to flee. She is not of this world. She must have fallen through during the Convergence."

"Do you know where you are, child?" the king asked. For a split second she thought she saw his image flicker. She shook her head. When had she last taken her pills? She could feel them wearing off.

Misreading her gesture, he went on, "You are in Asgard. And I am Odin, its king." It might have been her imagination, but Kyra could have sworn his eye glinted green for a moment. She stared at him as his image wavered. She thought his voice had changed too; not so deep and wise but younger, sharper.

"Can you send me home?" she asked him. If home was there still. Last she had seen, her university was receiving a sound beating. Maybe she didn't want to go home just yet if the attack was still under way.

"It is not safe to travel through the Convergence portals right now," the king told her. "Tell me, did you see my son, Thor, during the battle?"

"Thor." She'd heard his name mentioned. She remembered one of the students in the library going on about him before the windows had shattered. "He was there," she said, "but I didn't see him." She didn't add that she'd been running away during most of the battle when she'd finally unfrozen.

It must be concern flashing across the king's face, but there was something like disappointment there too. "Then he still lives."

Kyra's head was beginning to throb, her vision blurring. Her pills were in her school bag which one of the guards now held. If she could just reach them… The king was swaying before her and when her vision cleared, a different person altogether sat in front of her, leaning so casually on the throne you might have thought it had been built just for him. Black hair framed a pale face though it was mostly hidden by a golden helmet. Reaching horns curved gracefully backwards atop the helmet. The man was dressed in green and black, holding onto a golden staff. Green eyes glimmered at her in an expression that could only be described as mischievous.

Kyra knew her face must have given away her surprise because he sat up straight in the throne, eyes going hard and distrustful. "Who are you?" she asked, unable to stop herself from asking.

"You can see me." It wasn't a question. The guards shuffled next to Kyra, confused by the exchange.

"Yes."

"I'm afraid the Convergence has addled her mortal mind," the man sitting atop the throne said. "Take her down to the dungeons so we can better assess whether or not she's a threat."

"Wait," Kyra pulled away from the guards. "Where's the king? What have you done to him?"

"Take her away now before she hurts herself," the man commanded, and the guards grabbed Kyra's arms, wrenching her backwards and away from the green-eyed man. She shook her head hard and before she was pulled from the hall, she looked up to see the one-eyed king staring back at her. It was not anger or fear on his face, she realized, but curiosity so keen that it sent chills down her spine. Something told her she would not be going home.


	2. One: Into the Dungeons

**Author's Note:** Wow, thank you so much for the reviews, follows, and favorites! I was having a really bad week, but that made me really happy when I saw that. I hope you enjoy chapter one! Please feel free to leave a review - even the shortest note can really make my day. Thanks for reading!

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 **One** **–** **Into the Dungeons**

Kyra was thrust into one of the dungeons far below the court where she weighed the situation she had been in and was now in, wondering if she might not have been better off in Greenwich. None of it felt real, and she kept waiting to wake up or snap out of whatever crazy hallucination this was. The guards had taken her bag with them, so she was still without her medication. What if she didn't give it back? She tried not to think about that instead turning her attention to the cell she'd been placed in. It was like nothing she'd ever seen before with walls built of some sort of golden energy. She held her palms up to it and could feel the energy thrumming beneath them. She didn't dare touch it for fear of some sort of shock. There was a single cot, a small table, and a chair in the main part of a room and a small, private section that housed a bathroom. Unsure of what else to do, she sat on the cot. She couldn't read one of the textbooks she'd had in her bag to occupy her mind – as if she'd be able to concentrate. At least the feel of the paper under her fingers would have been a familiar comfort in a place so devoid of familiarity. They spoke English, at least, not some alien dialect she had no hope of translating. That was something. She'd never heard of Asgard before and found herself reaching for her phone to Google it before realizing her phone was in her bag and probably didn't get reception here anyway.

She didn't know how long she waited. Her watch had stopped working, the hands frozen at the exact time she'd fallen through the portal. She was thinking she had been forgotten, and her anxiety began to peak when she realized she might be trapped there for a very long time. Her fingers started trembling, and she tried to still them, her thoughts going to her bag and the pills that rested inside. She hated relying on them, but right now she would give anything to have the comforting fog fill her mind. Anything to calm her down. She stood up and started pacing, her mind buzzing with tension. She could feel a full blown panic attack coming on, and tried to push it back. The echo of an opening door somewhere down the hall stilled her, and she moved to a spot where she could see anyone coming, readying herself for the possibility of a fight. A guard appeared, and Kyra did a double take. It was a woman who approached, dressed like a warrior and carrying a sword longer than Kyra's arm. She had deep blue eyes that could have mirrored the night sky and black hair caught up in a high ponytail. She was beautiful, but Kyra made no mistake in thinking she was anything less than a warrior. Her bearing left no room for questioning. Kyra's eyes snagged on the item she was carrying. Her bag. The woman came up to a small hatch in the wall that Kyra hadn't noticed before.

"You can have this back," she told Kyra. "We found nothing of value or danger inside although we weren't sure what these were." She held up a bottle of Kyra's pills, giving it a little jangle. Kyra's head throbbed at the sound.

"They help me," she said quickly.

"Help you do what? Do you eat them?" the woman asked, looking at the little blue pills with narrowed eyes.

"You swallow them. They help calm…" She paused, not wanting to admit her weaknesses.

"They calm you down?" the woman guessed. There was nothing aggressive or judgmental in her eyes.

"Yes," Kyra decided to go for the truth. "I tend to…my _mind_ tends to cause chaos when I get nervous. I don't deal well with stressful situations." _Like this._

"Even a warrior can get nervous. I'll give these back. You have nothing to fear here. Odin's actions might seem harsh, but he is not so cruel as to hurt a girl who has fallen into our realm by mistake." She put the pills back into the bag and pushed it through the hatch. Kyra walked forward to grab it, keeping her steps slow on purpose so she did not appear too eager. She wanted to ask just _why_ he had thrown her in the dungeons if he wasn't cruel, but bit the question back, asking another instead.

"Odin is the king?" she asked though she'd heard the words from his own mouth. The woman nodded. "And I am in Asgard which is where exactly?"

"It's one of the nine realms. Your own world – Midgard as we call it – is one of these realms."

"When I left my own world, I saw this giant _ship_ crashing into my college. Do you know what that was?" She could still see it in her mind, impossibly tall and bearing down on the campus green in a rush of shattering stone and screams.

"The Dark Elf ship?" the woman asked.

"I guess." Kyra wasn't quite sure how to answer that.

"One of our own – the prince of Asgard – is out there fighting," the woman assured her. "He will not let your world fall. He…cares too much for it…for its people." One in particular, her tone implied.

"Thor," Kyra closed her eyes, remembering Odin asking after his son, "god of thunder?" she asked.

"Yes." Her face lit up. "You've heard of him?"

"Only through mythology. And, well, he came to Earth once before." She tried to recall the details but to be honest, she hadn't paid much attention to the names of the superheroes that had taken the world by storm. It sounded a little too close to something she might hallucinate, so she'd avoided the Internet stories.

"Ah, yes, the Battle of New York. Thor speaks of it often," the woman said. "He went to Earth once before that to stop another threat. I went myself that time. It's a very interesting realm, but I have my duties here in Asgard."

"The one who attacked Earth, didn't he come from another…realm?" The word stuck on her tongue like molasses. It was something her foster parents would have grounded her for speaking of.

The woman's face darkened. "Yes, from this realm, actually. Loki is – _was_ – the adopted brother of Thor. He was always jealous of Thor. He thought that if he couldn't rule Asgard, he could rule Midgard."

"Is he behind this attack, too?" She had mentioned Dark Elves, but that meant nothing to Kyra.

"No, Loki is dead." The woman's tone was sharp, but Kyra thought she could hear something akin to sympathy as if no matter what he had done, there was a small part of her that grieved him – perhaps a past version of him that no longer existed. Kyra had mourned her parents in the same fashion a long time ago but resentment over their abandonment of her had left her bitter.

"Well, thank you for this." Kyra held up her bag. Her shaking had worsened, and she wanted to take her pills before she really felt like she was losing her mind.

The woman seemed to sense she wanted to be alone. "I'll bring you some food and water in a little while. My name is Lady Sif. If you should need anything or if anyone should try to mistreat you, ask for me. You will come to no harm in your time here."

"Can I go home?" Kyra asked before Lady Sif left. The woman looked back at her.

"I'm not sure," she replied. "Odin has not decided what to do with you yet."

"I want to speak with him," Kyra said. "He can't trap me here like some caged animal. I have finals to take. I didn't ask to fall through that portal."

"I know." Lady Sif's eyes were sympathetic. "I'll see if he will let you have an audience. Perhaps tomorrow once you've rested."

"Thank you." After the warrior had left, Kyra took her bag and sat back down on the cot. She dumped the contents out to see what she had with her. Right now it was _all_ she had save the clothes on her back. She pushed her long, dark hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ears. She had three textbooks – one on human right's movements, another on psychology, and a tattered copy of _Twelfth Night_. She placed them on the table beside the cot. Maybe she could make this cell a little more like home though she hoped she wouldn't be in it long enough to get comfortable. She felt exposed with the golden energy field exposing her to the rest of the dungeons on two sides. She could see no other prisoners from her vantage, but it made her feel no less exposed.

She scrabbled for the right bottle of pills and threw one back, swallowing hard to get it down. Three bottles of pills in all. Antidepressants, antipsychotic, and anxiety. She had a feeling she could take all three of those and none of this would go away. She tucked them away in the front pocket of her bag, comforted by their proximity. She had other random things – a comb, chap stick, a bag of Sour Patch Kids, a notebook, and several pens and pencils. Loose papers had fallen out of her textbooks and she gathered them up. She didn't think her professors would accept "left my homework in another realm" as an excuse.

She tucked everything back in the bag except the books and shoved it under the cot. Curling herself into a ball, she stared at the wall as the drugs took effect. Her fingers stopped trembling and her anxiety turned into anger. How dare this Odin imprison her when she hadn't asked to be sent into his _realm_. He had no right to do so. He wasn't her king. She started planning out what she would say to him if she got her audience. The speeches in her head grew bolder and longer as she stared at the wall until somehow her mind let down its guard and she fell asleep mid-thought.

…

She awoke to the sound of something being set on the table beside her. Her eyes flashed open, and she sat up, instantly on guard. It was only Lady Sif, however, bringing her a meal.

"I didn't mean to startle you," the woman warrior said. "I thought you might be hungry."

Kyra realized she was. She was _famished_. Something about interdimensional travel, she supposed. She reached for a roll, ignoring the warning bells that were going off in her head. They had no reason to poison her, right? She glanced up at Lady Sif who gave her an encouraging nod. Deciding she'd rather fill the gnawing emptiness in her stomach than be overly cautious, Kyra ripped off a bit of the bread and chewed it.

"Odin has granted you an audience," Lady Sif said.

Kyra looked up at her feeling suddenly nervous. Some of her initial anger had worn off, and the impassioned speeches she'd recited in her head seemed a little much. She had no idea what this king was capable. It didn't make sense to rile him. Perhaps playing the meek human who just wanted to go home would work. If she were pathetic enough, perhaps he'd send her right back. It was a lesson she'd learned long ago, and she'd become a master of making people underestimate her over the years.

"When can I speak with him?" Kyra asked, taking another bite of the bread.

"First thing tomorrow morning," Lady Sif told her. "It's getting late, and the king is waiting for news of his son and the battle on Midgard."

"Would he keep me here?" Kyra asked. Surely there wasn't a risk of that. She was just taking up space. She didn't belong here. But the way he'd looked at her when he'd been someone else…that curiosity. She reminded herself that she had been hallucinating then, had probably imagined the whole thing. When she spoke with him tomorrow, she would make sure she had taken her morning pills.

"I do not think so. This is not a realm of mortals." In other words, she didn't belong here. As if Kyra didn't already know that. "Once the danger has passed, I am sure Odin will send you back." Kyra wished she shared Sif's optimism.

"I'll leave you to rest," Sif said, backing toward the door. Kyra watched her go, half wishing she'd stay to fill the cell with anything but the silence that followed her departure. She finished the food and lay back on the cot. Ironically, it was more comfortable than her tiny bed that occupied a small corner of her cramped flat back in Greenwich. The silence was unsettling though, so used to the sirens and night noises as she was. The city distracted her from her mind but the silence drew her in, curled around her like a hangman's noose, tightening with every silently ticking second.

She drew a breath, and the lights dimmed around her, leaving her in a shade just short of pitch. The golden energy keeping her inside her cell gave off a hazy glow like a dying star, and she buried her head in the pillow to block it out. She might have fallen asleep, but she'd trained herself to wake up at the smallest sound after her second foster home. Her eyes shot open, and she held her breath a moment, straining her ears. She heard nothing but rather _felt_ a presence in her cell. Snatching the thick textbook resting on the table, she held it before her like a weapon.

A soft chuckle filled the room. "Do you plan on braining me with a book?" The voice was pure silk, and Kyra had heard it before.

"Show yourself," she said. Her eyes were having trouble adjusting in the dark, but she thought she saw a flutter of movement toward the corner of the room.

"So you can see me." There was curiosity to the voice, but Kyra didn't loosen her grip on the book. She slid to the floor, holding it before her like a shield.

"You were on the throne earlier today," she told him. "I thought I was hallucinating. Maybe I still am."

"And why would you think that?" The dark shape shifted, and she thought she saw a glint of green eyes against the golden glow of the energy walls.

Kyra weighed her words carefully before letting them pass her lips. "I don't always see the world as it is. Sometimes things that don't belong slip through the cracks; things I'm not supposed to see."

The figure cocked his head to the side. "How did a mortal such as you come by such a gift?" He sounded incredulous as if she had some talent one should be glad to possess.

"Gift? No, I don't think you understand me. It's not a gift; it's a curse. It's…" She was about to say 'madness' but it was a word her first foster mother would have used to explain Kyra's visions. "Well, let's just say it's not something mortals covet."

"They would call you mad."

"They _have_ called me mad."

"And what do _you_ believe, Kyra Winters?" Suddenly he was right beside her though she hadn't seen him move across the room. She whirled around, but she couldn't properly see him.

"How do you know my name?" she asked, chilled by the sound of it on his tongue.

"It was all over your school papers. The guards went through your bag remember? You might want to brush up on physics. Your last exam was pitiful." The mocking in his voice was clear, and Kyra's ears heated with indignation.

"That is none of your business. What do you know of Earth anyway?" She paced to the side, hoping to catch a glimpse of the intruder. When he kept to the shadows, she began to wonder if he was really there at all.

"I've been there a few times," he replied lightly. "Your kind isn't quite as cooperative as I'd hoped. You, on the other hand, are much more fascinating. Unfortunately, it presents a problem."

The hairs on the back of Kyra's neck prickled. Her fingers tightened around the textbook. "Oh?"

"You weren't supposed to see me," he told her. "That wasn't a part of the plan."

"What plan?" Kyra backed up, but a soft buzzing reminded her of the electrical wall. She had nowhere to go. "I just want to go home."

"You have an audience with the king tomorrow." Kyra didn't ask how he knew this.

"The king. Odin, you mean?" It came out sounding more like a question.

The man standing before her chuckled softly. "Yes, Odin. King of Asgard." The words sounded sarcastic coming from him, and she wondered if he had a bone to pick with the king. She wanted to question him further, but the foggy comfort of her brain didn't seem to think it was such a big deal anymore. "You don't tell him or anyone else a word about me or about what you think you might have seen." The sarcasm had melted into iron vice words, and she found herself standing up taller, the set in her shoulders defiant.

"Why should I do anything you ask of me?" she asked him.

When her back hit the wall a second later, she blinked in surprise. She hadn't seen him move, yet here he was pressing her into the cold, hard wall – fortunately not an electrified one. Something icy touched her throat, and she saw the glint of a knife out of the corner of her eye. The book had fallen to the floor, sliding out of reach.

"I'm not asking."

"Who are you?" Kyra didn't take well to threats. Once she'd turned eighteen and left the group home, she'd sworn to never let anyone make her feel small again. This stranger was no different. This time fight kicked in, taking her by surprise. She had learned how to disarm an attacker, and this one was no different.

Later, she realized that it probably only worked because he hadn't expected her to fight back. She brought up a foot to kick him squarely in the stomach at the same time as bringing up her forearm to snap his wrist up. His grip loosened on the knife as he stumbled back in surprise, and Kyra snatched the knife into her own hand. She thought he might attack her again but instead a deep, rumbling laughter broke the silence of the cell.

"You are full of surprises, aren't you?" he asked, still chuckling. He didn't make any movement toward her, but Kyra didn't let down her guard.

"I don't like it when people threaten me."

"Then perhaps I've made my point. It would benefit the both of us if you say nothing when you speak with the king tomorrow."

"You were sitting on his throne before." Kyra's mind was still working sluggishly, her muscle memory the only thing that had gotten her that knife.

"Are you sure?" She wasn't and his doubt, whether genuine or not, wasn't helping.

"You're here now. You were there before." How else would she have recognized him?

"Am I?"

Kyra woke with a start, heart pounding like a war drum in her ears. She took several gulps of air, drowning in panic. Had it all been a dream? She sat up, eyes searching the darkness of the room. She saw no one, sensed no one. The heavy textbook she'd wielded now lay on her bedside table just the way it had been before. She lay back down, still breathing heavily. She'd had vivid dreams before, even woken to find that she'd sleepwalked her way into another room. That was before they'd started locking her doors from the outside at night. They'd bolted the windows, too, and she forgot the feel of fresh air for over a year.

Her mind wouldn't settle, and she couldn't seem to get comfortable. She flipped over, but something was digging into the side of her head. She hit the pillow and felt something beneath it. Her heart picked up pace again as she lifted the pillow to reveal a glinting silver dagger.


	3. Two: Audience with the King

**Author's Note:** I can't believe how many favorites and follows this story has gotten after just two chapters! Thank you so much! So fair warning, this chapter contains a minor spoiler for Thor: Ragnarok if you haven't seen it. It won't ruin the movie for you or anything. It just gives away the whereabouts of Odin which is explained pretty early on in the movie. (Loki, Loki, Loki...) I have some really long work days ahead of me, so if I don't post the next chapter right away, that is why! Also I've been neglecting my other story that I'm almost done with... Thank you for reading!

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 **Two – Audience With the King**

It was all he'd ever wanted and yet the empty hall before him felt a touch lonely. What was the point of being king if no one even knew you were there? Well, no one but that irritatingly perceptive mortal locked in his old cell in the dungeons. He had often imagined a coronation with fanfare and cheering, king's scepter in hand. He'd been made king once when his father had fallen into the Odin sleep and his brother had been banished to Midgard. The line of succession had fallen to him, and his mother had looked upon him with proud eyes as he took the golden scepter, accepting the role until his father woke. But now his mother was dead and there was no one left to remember that. His rule had been short. The people had hardly known what was happening before Thor made his untimely return back to Asgard, single-handedly destroying the carefully laid plan Loki had nearly completed. All he'd wanted to do was prove to his father that he was just as great a son. He might not have the brute strength and warrior's heart like Thor, but he had intelligence and strategy. He used his mind where Thor used his hammer. But all Thor and Odin had seen was betrayal. Nothing his mother could have said would have swayed them. He was the lesser son, and he would always be.

Now he found that he had no one to prove anything to. Everyone thought he was Odin, and he knew he needed to retain the guise if they would ever accept him as king. It wasn't exactly what he'd wanted. He had the throne, true, but he hadn't proved that he could be just as good a king as Thor. It took the joy out of having the throne at all.

Loki drummed his fingers on the arm of the throne which was much less comfortable than he remembered. He'd felt more triumphant even before when it was a temporary position. Then it had rightfully been his. Now…well, his father was unfit to rule but if Loki were being entirely honest, that was his own doing. It wasn't like he'd harmed his father, just scrambled his mind a little and left him in an old folks home for mortals back on Midgard. Odin had had his time as king after all. Now it was Loki's turn. He'd been waiting for the role for over a thousand years now after all. Ironic that in the end Thor had never actually had the throne for himself. His coronation had been ruined thanks to Loki's little stunt with the Frost Giants, and Thor's subsequent backlash had resulted in his exile.

Now Loki wondered what would happen when Thor returned from Midgard. He'd spent much time there of late with his new friends that Loki had come to despise during his time in the city they called New York. The mortals all thought Thor to be a hero, but they'd refused to bow to Loki. Pitiful. Mortals always had been weak like that, he thought. So quick to idolize someone powerful like Thor. They didn't appreciate true power.

"My king." Loki started as Lady Sif approached. He'd been so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn't even seen her. How strange it was looking down at her when all she could see was his father. Last time she'd spoken to Loki as himself she'd threatened his life. He held back a smirk as Sif knelt before him in respect.

"You accepted an audience with the mortal girl," she reminded him as if he'd forgotten. He forced himself to be patient. "Might I bring her up now?"

"Very well."

Sif bowed and headed in the direction of the dungeons. Loki had given her the task of speaking with the girl in order to keep the warrior distracted. Sif was too shrewd, and he knew he had to tread carefully. He might have looked and spoken like Odin, but his words were his own though carefully crafted to fit his father. He had to stay in character or the people would grow suspicious. Fortunately he'd been left alone for the most part. After Frigga's death, Odin was still mourning. That, at least, he did not have to act out.

He hadn't been able to protect her. Hadn't been able to save her. Her death resonated with him and though the pain felt like weakness, he held tight to it; it was all he had left of her now. After all the abandonment he'd felt from his father and his brother, Loki had never felt abandoned by his mother. She'd taught him everything he knew about sorcery, helped him hone his skills until he had mastered the art of magic. He felt her loss like a hole in his heart though he sometimes wondered lately if he had a heart. It was so much easier to shut people out, but some of them kept finding a way back in.

And now there was this mortal girl who had seen through his illusion the day before. She intrigued him in a way no mortal ever had. Most were dull and predictable, but not her. She'd even found a way to disarm him the night before when he'd spoken to her in her cell. Of course that had just been an illusion, but the knife was real enough. He'd left it with her just to see what she would do. She was nearly as easy to manipulate as others like her, but her uncanny ability was still unsettling. Today he would see if she remembered anything from the night before. If she believed it. She'd all but admitted that people thought she was mad the night before. How close-minded mortals could be. They thought anyone who was different needed to be changed, conformed to fit within the confines of a society that refused to see past the tips of their own noses. If something was too difficult for them to understand, they tucked it away refusing to admit it existed.

He heard footsteps and carefully arranged his face into the wise but stern expression he'd often seen on his father's face. Lady Sif walked beside the girl, and Loki watched the mortal carefully. She was attractive by mortal standards, he supposed, with dark hair that verged between deep brown and black and chocolate eyes to match. Her skin was a shade of olive, and her red lips seemed to be pressed in a permanent frown. She wasn't very old. Not by mortal standards and certainly not by Asgardian standards. As he studied her, he saw her mind whirling behind those dark eyes. He couldn't tell if she saw him or the king Lady Sif saw. She wore typical Midgardian garb. Denim pants streaked with grass stains and a sweater that was baggy enough to hide her figure. Her sneakers were so worn that he could see bits of her neon pink socks through several holes. There was no dignity in the way mortals dressed.

"I would speak to the mortal alone," he told Lady Sif who stiffened as if wanting to refuse the request.

"I'll be right outside," she said instead, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder. It seemed as if they'd bonded in the short time the mortal had been there, and Loki wondered at the easy way Sif had with others. He'd never found it that easy to get along with other people even before they'd all marked him as a traitor.

He waited until Sif had left the room before returning his attention to the girl. She was not kneeling, but he didn't bother with formalities. "You requested an audience with me," he said to her, gauging her response.

"Yes, your Majesty," she said. It came out sounding more like a question.

"Tell me, child. What do you see?" he asked her, waiting to see if she would divulge the truth or sum it up to her own craziness. He felt like a cat playing with its prey, but he needed to indulge himself every once in awhile.

"I…I'm not sure what you're referring to," she said. "If you mean this hall, then I see a place filled with history and glory and everything I would never have thought could be real." She looked up at the murals overhead that painted Odin and Thor's glory. Loki didn't like to look up at them. They were just another reminder of growing up in Thor's shadow.

"And?" he prompted.

"And I see a king who has sat in these halls for probably longer than I've been alive." She wouldn't quite meet his eyes unlike the night before when she'd been seeking him out in the dark. "Your image is in the murals," she added. "And I suppose that's Thor." She nodded to the paintings overhead.

"Yes. That is my firstborn."

"But you had another son." She looked up at him then, frowning. "I'm sorry for your loss."

Loki cocked his head, studying her. She met his gaze, not defiantly but respectfully. Whatever had allowed her to see through his illusions the day before was gone, and he found himself grateful for it. He would not allow one mortal to destroy his reign on Asgard by simply being able to see through his illusion.

"I was told he died a hero," he said. "I am proud of both my sons."

He found himself wishing it were Odin really saying those words though he'd cast his father out without a second thought. He'd craved his father's acceptance for so long that it startled him to realize a part of him still wanted it. It angered him too, but he forced himself to keep the anger from showing on his face.

"You wish to go home." The sooner she was gone, the better. Whatever fluke had let her see past his illusions was better in an entirely different realm, far away from him.

"Yes," she said, sounding relieved at the change in subject. This was what she had wanted to ask, but she'd curved her tongue in an attempt to show respect to the king.

"Your family will be worried."

She blanched but recovered quickly. "Yeah." She gave him a small smile as if to cover up her reaction to the mention of family. He found himself intrigued despite himself, but whether or not she had a family waiting for her back in her own realm had no bearing on his day.

"I will allow you to return to your home on one condition." He watched her throat as she swallowed. She was nervous, but her dark eyes didn't leave his. "If our keeper of the Bifrost declares it to be safe, he will return you to your home in Midgard. We cannot risk opening a portal if the battle still rages."

"Thank you." She hesitated as if she wanted to say more but then seemed to think better of it.

"The Lady Sif will take you there once you retrieve your possessions. I hope your stay wasn't too uncomfortable. In these dark times, we must take precautions."

"I understand." The fight had gone out of her since the last time he'd seen her. He wondered if she'd muddled her mind again with the pills mortals thought would cure them. If only she knew she didn't need curing. Still, it was better off this way. His illusions stood up to her, and she would be gone within the hour. His next order of business was his brother. Loki expected he would be back any day, sauntering in like he owned the place. Only – Thor had changed. Loki was pretty sure it had started with his banishment, and it pained him to think that his brother had actually grown, actually learned something.

"Thank you," the girl said again. Loki had almost forgotten her presence, his thoughts so far ahead of the moment. She bowed awkwardly before leaving him. Alone again. Her drabble had almost been more interesting than the silence. She looked back once as she left, eyes penetrating as if she could once again see through his illusion. Then she was gone, and he realized he was more than a little bothered by the fact that he didn't know whether or not she could really see him.

…

As Kyra retrieved her things from the cell, her fingers brushed the knife under her pillow. Without thinking she stashed it in her bag. She turned to her pile of books and frowned. _Twelfth Night_ was missing, but she'd read it enough that she supposed it wasn't that big of a deal. It bothered her to think someone had been going through her stuff, but she wasn't about to demand its return. All she wanted was off this realm and back into her own.

"What is the Bifrost, and should I be worried?" she asked Sif as they made their way out of the dungeons and through the halls of the palace. She tried not to gawk at the murals and statues and every person they passed. She received a few odd looks, and she supposed she looked very out of place. She pulled the bag up on her shoulder and fiddled self-consciously with the sleeves of her sweater.

Lady Sif gave her an amused smile. "Not unless you are prone to motion sickness."

"Depends…"

"The Bifrost is how we travel between dimensions," Sif went on to explain. "Heimdall is its keeper."

"I'm having trouble picturing this," Kyra admitted. She'd never been particularly gifted in the sciences, but what Sif was explaining sounded like magic. Of course, everything that had happened to her recently felt equally inexplicable. Maybe a lifetime of being told to keep her imagination in check had made her close-minded. When she was in middle school and all the kids had been reading _Harry Potter_ , her foster parents had strictly forbidden her from reading them or mentioning anything to do with magic. Devil's work, they would have called it. Looking around her now, she didn't think they could have been further from the truth. What she saw here was incredible. As they breached the outdoors, Kyra took a moment to simply stare around her. She'd been too frightened the day before to notice much of anything. Now she saw how vast and incredibly beautiful the city was. The architecture looked both incredibly modern and old. She jumped as a spacecraft flew overhead, turning to look at Sif with what must have been an amusing expression.

"You don't have those on Earth?" the warrior asked.

"Not like that," Kyra told her. "Nothing like that." She found herself wishing she could explore deeper into the city, smell the flowers that overflowed from the gardens, listen to the water that ran through canals and under bridges. This wasn't where she belonged though. Everything about it told of gods and warriors. She didn't fit in here any more than one of the Asgardians would fit in on Earth.

"How long does the Bifrost take?" she asked as Sif led her to a set of buildings to the side of the palace.

"Not long. Travel between dimensions is quick, much faster than mortal methods of travelling." She paused, and Kyra saw that they had reached a stable. Elegant horses craned their necks over the golden gates to their stalls. At Kyra's questioning look, Sif explained, "We'll ride horses to the Bifrost. The Bifrost Bridge is quite long."

Kyra froze as Sif led an impossibly tall black stallion out of one of the stalls. "Do you ride?" she asked.

"I rode a pony once at the fair," Kyra said weakly. In all honesty, she'd always been terrified of the animals. Those hooves were sharp and heavy, and she didn't like the way the horse was looking at her. Its back was nearly as tall as her head, and she imagined a fall from it might hurt a lot.

"There is nothing to be afraid of," Sif reassured her.

"I'm not afraid," Kyra lied. "I'd just rather walk."

Sif pulled herself onto the horse's bare back with ease, reaching down a hand for Kyra to take. "We'll ride together. Or perhaps you'd rather stay here…"

Kyra took her hand, and Sif helped swing her into the saddle with a strength that caught Kyra off guard. "You're very strong," she said with a startled yelp. "Are all Asgardians that strong?"

"We're built stronger than mortals," Sif told her. "Not all train as warriors, but those who do must be ready for anything." She urged the horse forward, and Kyra put her arms around Sif's waist, trying not to cling on too tightly as the ground moved beneath her.

"When did you become a warrior?" she asked, trying to distract herself as the horse carried them forward.

"Long before you were born," Sif told her.

"How old are you exactly?" Kyra asked. Sif looked like she might be in her mid-twenties by mortal standards, but she was getting the idea that Asgardians lived longer lives.

"A little over a thousand years old," Sif told her.

"A _thousand_?" Kyra would be turning twenty in December. She couldn't imagine living for a thousand years. "You look so young. How long do Asgardians live?"

Sif laughed. "A long time," she told Kyra. "A breath for us is the span of a mortal life."

"I suppose so. No wonder people on Earth are always scrambling to fit everything into their lives, to see everything. We have so little time." Kyra hadn't given much thought to the idea of mortality, but she supposed she'd already wasted a good portion of her life in the system drifting from one foster home to the next when they'd finally had enough of her.

"We've reached the bridge," Sif told Kyra. She urged the horse faster, but Kyra was too distracted by the bridge to be alarmed. The bridge was made of some sort of iridescent material that shone in every color as the light hit it. It spanned out over dark waters, and she could see a circular, golden building on the far end. There was a pointed extension of the building that reached upward.

She tried not to think of how narrow the bridge was as the horse ran onward. She knew there was no risk of her falling off, but she couldn't help picturing herself plunging into the water headfirst. Sif slowed the horse as they reached the building, and Kyra slid off, hitting the ground hard enough to make her knees buckle. Sif slid off more gracefully and motioned for Kyra to follow her into the building. The circular walls inside were laced with golden wheels that looked somewhat like giant gears. A giant of a man greeted them with a golden helmet upon his head. His eyes, too, were gold like those of a lion. She assumed this must be Heimdall, gatekeeper of the realm.

"Whom do we have here?" he asked, his voice rich and resounding. He held a giant sword in his dark hands. It was nearly taller than Kyra, and she couldn't help but admire the craftsmanship.

"This is Kyra Winters. She is of Midgard and is seeking passage back. Has the battle been won?" Kyra could hear the tension in Sif's voice, worry that she'd kept veiled until now.

"It is. The prince has triumphed over the Dark Elf Malekith. He will return shortly with the dark matter." Kyra had no idea what they were talking about but found it irrelevant as long as it didn't hinder her from going home. Heimdall walked over to a circular metal device at the center of the room and slid the sword down into it. He turned it with both hands, and the other end of the room began to spin and glow with the bright rainbow colors of the bridge.

"All you must do is step through," Sif told her. "You will be returned to Midgard where you belong."

"What does it feel like," Kyra asked, "going through a portal? I mean…this one." Before it had felt like stepping through air. Her ears had popped, and she'd been disoriented, but it hadn't hurt.

"It will just tug a little and feel like you're falling, but you're safe." Sif held out a hand, and Kyra took it. "It was an honor to meet you, Kyra Winters," the warrior told her. "I wish you luck back in your realm."

"Thank you." Kyra hadn't expected to find a friend when she'd first dropped into this realm, but somehow she had. It was more than she could say for her own realm. "Your kindness means a lot to me. I hope that our paths cross again some day. Maybe…"

"The Convergence is over, so you don't have to worry about falling through any more portals," Sif told her.

"That's a relief." She still had no idea what the Convergence was, but she found the pull of home stronger than her curiosity. She let go of Sif's hand and moved toward the portal. Then she stepped through. It _was_ like falling, but more like falling through a rainbow slide. Nothing hurt and though her stomach dropped a little, she didn't feel ill. Then her feet were on solid ground, and she found herself standing amid the ruins of her university.


	4. Three: Hunted

**Author's Note:** Thank you so much for the reviews and the favorites! And 38 follows? Wow. So this chapter just touches upon the tip of the iceberg that is Kyra's past. I'll be delving deeper into that later in the story. Loki will be back for the next chapter and we'll get to see more of his and Kyra's interactions. Thanks so much for reading!

* * *

 **Three – Hunted**

Broken stone crunched under Kyra's feet as she made her way across the university commons. Whatever bodies might have been there before were gone but the destruction left in the wake of the attack would not be so easily removed. Kyra clutched her bag closer and walked over to the water where the ship had first appeared. The morning was still and silent though she knew it would soon be humming with action as soon as the cleanup crews arrived. New York was still recovering. How long would it take them to recover? She supposed classes would still be in session since the destruction had been fairly contained, but she saw no students or teachers. She looked down at her watch before remembering that it had stopped and pulled out her cell phone instead. It was three-thirty in the morning, so Kyra made her way home.

Everything around her was surreal. She wanted to think the day before had just been some crazy dream, but she'd taken her medication that morning. The king had appeared to her as an old man though the knife hiding in her bag proved the other man had not been a figment of her imagination. The streets were empty, the bars having closed for the night. Kyra made her way back to her flat, unlocking the door and leaning against it once she was inside. Normally the quiet of her flat calmed her, but tonight it felt too quiet.

Her cupboards were bare so she ate cereal for dinner in the dim light of her living room. She didn't own a TV, so she listened to the sound of her own crunching. Her bag was next to her on the couch as if she couldn't part with it; she'd already checked three times to make sure her pills were still in the front pocket. The knife glistened where she'd laid it on the table, a reminder that she wasn't completely crazy.

The flat was more of a glorified closet, and Kyra's bed was shoved into one corner under a small window. She was suddenly bone tired even though it seemed as if she'd just woken up back in Asgard. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she reached forward for the picture she kept on her bedside table. Her hand paused, outstretched. It wasn't where she'd left it. Most people wouldn't notice the difference, how the frame was tilted a little closer to the wall than it had been before. Kyra noticed.

Someone had been inside her apartment.

Kyra couldn't move. It was just like before when the Dark Elves had been attacking her campus and she'd frozen. She knew she should do something. The door was locked but did that really keep anyone out if someone had already been there? Were they still there? She had nowhere to run to, nowhere to go. She didn't know if the pills were wearing off – effects of traveling through the Bifrost – but she wanted her anxiety pills. Her eyes focused on the bag across the flat, sitting where she had left it. Even after everything she had been through, walking to the other side of her flat seemed incredibly frightening. After several silent minutes had passed, Kyra forced herself to get to her feet. She crept across the floor and grabbed her bag, hugging it to her chest before turning off the lamp. The sudden darkness was worse, making her panic surge. It was as if her other senses had been amplified. Footsteps were coming up the stairs outside her flat. Two sets of feet: heavy, quick, decisive. Kyra knew they were coming for her. She didn't know why, and a part of her mind wanted to reject the idea that this was happening. She heard the footsteps stop outside her door. She held her breath as the doorknob rattled. Her mind was paralyzed, but her fingers reached for the knife she'd left on the table.

Her flat was three stories up, so jumping out the window wasn't an option. Instead she slung the bag over her shoulder and stood, positioning herself behind the door. Something metal was inserted into the lock, and she heard it scraping around, trying to find purchase against the lock mechanisms.

Kyra held the knife tighter in her hand until her fingers ached from the pressure. The telltale click of the door unlocking was like a gunshot in the silent flat. The door swung open, Kyra huddled in its shadow waiting. Two figures entered and by the way they walked, she knew they were the ones who had been there before.

"I thought you said you saw a light," the taller one said, giving his partner a shove to the shoulder. Kyra could tell they were American from their accents.

"I did."

If she could just slip out the door before they noticed her. They'd left it open – careless or cocky, she wasn't sure. She took a step toward it, skirting around the door. She had one foot in the hallway and one in the flat when the shorter man turned around. She froze on the spot, knife still held tightly in her hand but no longer feeling like much of a comfort as both men turned to face her.

"Hey now, we just want to talk," the taller man said, holding out his hands as if to show he wasn't armed. Kyra was pretty sure he was. Something metallic glinted at his side as his jacket pulled backward with the movement. The weak light from the window caught it for a moment, and Kyra knew they weren't just there to talk.

 _Move_ , she told herself forcefully. Sometimes she felt as if she were stuck in a dream where running proved next to impossible, like her feet had sunk into quicksand and there was no getting out. They took a step toward her and the dream broke. Kyra's legs could suddenly move, and she let them sprint her straight out of the apartment and toward the staircase at the end of the hall. The sound of pursuing footsteps followed her doggedly, but she was fast and was through the door before they had made it past her neighbor's flat. She took the stairs as quickly as she dared, hand dancing along the railing, skidding along the bitterly cold metal. The stairs went down two flights in a sort of square, and she could hear it when the men entered a flight above her. She half expected the sound of gunshots to follow, but the only sound that echoed out in the cramped space was their footsteps chasing after her. Then the door was in sight, and she was barreling along the first floor corridor. She thought she heard someone shout from behind one of the doors, wondering why people were running about in the middle of the night. She wished she were safely behind her locked door, huddled under blankets with a cup of herbal tea in hand. The illusion of safety had been broken, however, and she wasn't sure she could ever feel safe there again. As if feeling safe later were really a priority when she wasn't safe now.

She surged out of the doors and onto the street. The night air was cool, and she shivered as she plunged onward, down the sidewalk past the sleepy buildings. She didn't know where to go, what to do. She didn't have anyone. Part of the reason she'd moved to England to attend college was so that she could start fresh where no one knew her. She'd never left the country before that, not even for a family trip. Her life had been completely contained within the city limits of a Seattle suburb and sometimes within the walls of her foster home when her foster parents thought she was too strange for the outside world.

Her feet took her back to campus, back to the dark ruins. She tried one of the doors to the library, but it was locked. She tugged for a few moments as if it might open at her insistence. Footsteps echoed somewhere on the other end of the campus, and she moved on to the next door. She should have gone somewhere crowded, somewhere she could blend in but the city lay in slumber, the people shut behind locked doors. There was no one to help her, no one she could turn to. She should have called the police, but her fingers were trembling too much to grab her phone.

She reached the other side of the library, sprinting around the corner and running hard into someone. The momentum sent her falling backwards to the ground. She lay there for a moment, dazed before the world spun back into clarity and she found herself looking up at two figures. She tried to scramble to her feet, but they grabbed her arms, pulling her up.

"Stop fighting," one of them grunted when she shoved her elbow into his chest.

Kyra didn't listen. She kicked out, scraped her nails, tried to punch her way out of their grip, but they were too strong for her to break free. One of them knocked something heavy into her head, and Kyra fell slack in the other's arms. She wasn't quite unconscious, but she couldn't seem to move her limbs. She was aware of herself being dragged, the rough stone of broken building coarse under her feet.

"We just want to ask a few questions," one of the men said into her ear. She groaned, trying to move away from him. Her back hit something hard, and she found herself flat against a broken pillar. Her head was still reeling, so she closed her eyes and let the coolness of the stone seep into her skin.

"About your parents. About their work. See, they took something that didn't belong to them. The organization they stole it from wants it back."

"My parents…didn't work for anyone. They…they worked at home." She remembered they had a lab behind a solid door that always remained locked. She could picture the hall leading up to it, but she'd never been allowed inside the lab.

"Wrong." The answer was harsh. "You think your parents were some kinda heroes? Finding a cure for cancer?"

Her parents had both been neuroscientists. They _had_ been working on a cure for cancer. It ran in the family, her dad's side. Her grandmother had died of it. A brain tumor. Kyra had been so scared after she'd died, worried her parents would get it, that _she_ would get it. Her parents had told her they were working on a cure. She thought they were heroes at the time, thought they would save the world. But they'd died. Not of cancer. Nothing as natural as that.

Kyra's mind recoiled from the memories. Blackness roiled in as it always did when she got too close to remembering the truth of what had happened. Something bad. Something that shouldn't have happened to neuroscientists like her parents. Still, her mind rejected the man's words.

"They worked for _Hydra_ ," the man spat. "They weren't heroes. Weren't anything like those caped thugs flying around New York."

Hydra. Kyra had learned about Hydra in her history classes. "Not possible," she said. She might not remember much of her early childhood, but she remembered her parents as warm, loving. Hydra had been evil.

"Didn't all go down with the ship in World War II like everyone thought. Your parents were some of Hydra's top researchers back when they were alive. They knew the world needed to change – drastically – and they had a hand in helping it do so."

Kyra shook her head wordlessly. She wished he would shut up. She didn't want to hear these lies. A part of her mind was humming as he spoke though as if agreeing with what he said. Usually she could keep the humming at bay, and she wished it were telling her what they were saying was lies. She'd always had a way with truth or lies. Just another thing to get her an extra prescription. If someone lied, she knew it. She got this vibration under her skin, this feeling of _wrongness_. She'd felt it when the social services had told her her parents had been in an accident. She'd felt it when they'd told her she was going to a good home. She'd felt it when her first family told her she was mad. She'd give anything to feel it now, but she knew it was the truth.

"They stole research from Hydra and tried to leave town. Someone got to them before we could. We searched everywhere for their research, but they hid it well."

"They died fourteen years ago." Kyra opened her eyes and found the night sky greeting her, clear and focused. Her head still throbbed, and she thought she could feel a bit of blood trickling down her temple. "Why are you looking for answers now?"

"Because it's taken us fourteen years to track you down. Shield did a bang up job protecting you."

"Shield?" Protecting? But she'd been taken in by the system, not protected. Family after family had gotten tired of her and passed her on to the next. Unless she had to keep moving… Kyra had always kept her first name, but each new foster family had insisted she use a new last name whenever she'd been allowed to go to a public school. She'd ceased to be Kyra Winters until she'd moved out, gained her independence.

"Kyra Winters. Saw your name listed as one of the missing after the whole alien attack. Stroke of good fortune, that. See, we figure if we can't find the research, we find the girl whose parents developed it."

Kyra could see the men now that they weren't hidden in the shadows. She looked between the two of them, noting the guns at their sides, the well-groomed posture that spoke of training and discipline. They didn't look friendly, didn't look patient. Didn't look like they'd believe a single word that came out of her mouth.

"I don't remember anything about the first six years of my life," she told them. "Bits and pieces, but nothing solid. My parents never involved me with their research. I thought they were trying to find a cure for cancer."

"Memories can be recovered. Kids that go through traumatic experiences can sometimes block out whole parts of their memory, but those memories don't go away. They're still in there. Hydra will extract them."

Kyra thought she might be able to disarm one but not before the other drew his gun. As if sensing her thoughts, they took a step back from her, one of the men reaching for the gun. She saw something silver glinting on the ground just behind them. The knife. If she could only reach it. They wouldn't shoot her – not to kill. They needed her alive. Kyra took a deep breath, letting her shoulders sag. The men relaxed, hands parting ways with the guns. Kyra bolted. She had her fingers latched around the hilt of the knife when one of the men grabbed her around the waist. She struck backwards with the knife and felt a satisfying cry of pain when it dug into the man's bicep. She started to run, but something grabbed her ankle sending her sprawling. The knife skittered out of reach. She grappled for it, but a shoe pressed down on the blade before she could reach it.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way," the man said, picking up the knife and twirling it around in his hands. "Doesn't make a difference to me."

Kyra let them haul her to her feet again. She was too tired to fight them off again, the last few days catching up to her. Her adrenaline was still surging but instead of giving her the energy and strength she needed, her hands began to shake. There was no one to hear a scream for help, no one to help her. No one _here_. But what about _there_?

She threw back her head and shouted as loudly as she could, "Heimdall! Help me!" Her words echoed around the empty campus, followed by silence.

Then the men began to chuckle. "Boss said she was crazy. Guess he was righ-"

A surge of bright light and color engulfed them before he could finish his thought. Suddenly they were surging upward, carried by the Bifrost, its rainbow colors all around them.

"What the hell?!" They were still gripping her arms, tighter now that their feet were no longer on solid ground. Kyra took advantage and elbowed one of them in the throat before kneeing him in the groin. He grunted, his grip loosening enough that she could shove him off. He let out a cry, falling backwards until he disappeared from sight.

"You little bitch." The other man grabbed her tightly, clinging on to her for dear life.

"Get. Off. Of. Me!" Kyra growled at him. The knife was still in his hand, and she snatched it. He was distracted enough that it worked. He tried to claw it back, but Kyra jammed it into his side, and he let go of her. He slipped downward but snatched onto her bag. The fabric strained against his weight. Kyra kicked out a foot, meeting with his head. A few more kicks and he lost his grip on her bag. There was a ripping sound, and Kyra watched as the man and all three bottles of pills disappeared out the side of the Bifrost. She hardly had time to register what had happened when the motion stopped, and she found herself lying flat on the floor of Heimdall's domain. She looked up and found the guardian himself twisting his giant sword to shut down the Bifrost.

"Welcome back," he said.


	5. Four: The Enchantress

**Four – The Enchantress**

Lady Sif came to meet Kyra, her face alight with worry. "What happened?" she asked, taking in Kyra's shaking figure, ripped bag gripped tightly to her, bloody knife in one hand. "Come with me," she said. "You're safe now."

Kyra followed her, turning back to Heimdall before she left the circular building. "Thank you," she said, "for saving my life."

He nodded to her, golden eyes unwavering.

It was evening in Asgard though it had been morning when she'd left. The city danced with golden light, and she felt a trill of excitement at being back. Sif led her down a maze of cobbled streets before stopping at a two-story house made from golden bricks. There was a garden in back and it sat against one of the many rivers that wound through the city.

"This is your home?" Kyra asked. It was beautiful and welcoming with a lantern burning in the window, casting an orange glow over the street outside.

"Yes." Sif opened the door and ushered Kyra in. It was simple and elegant with none of the clutter Kyra was used to seeing in a house. A cozy living area greeted them first with a fireplace set against one wall. Built-in shelves surrounded it, packed with neat rows of books. An archway led into the kitchen and dining room and a set of stairs led up to what Kyra imagined to be the bedrooms. "Make yourself at home," Sif told her. "I can draw a bath if you'd like."

Kyra looked down at herself. The knees of her jeans were torn, skin bloodied beneath, and her hands were dirty and scuffed. "You don't have to-"

"You're my guest, please," Sif said. "It's the least I can do. Afterwards maybe you can tell me what happened."

Kyra nodded absently. A bath did sound nice. Next to Lady Sif and her flawless skin and silky hair, she felt bedraggled.

"There's a feast tonight," Sif called from upstairs. Kyra could hear the sound of running water. She set her bag down on the floor, wiping the knife off on her jeans before stowing it in the bag, and wandered over to the bookshelves, running a finger over the colorful spines.

"What for?" she asked.

"Odin is celebrating his son's victory on Midgard. Malekith, lord of the dark elves, has been vanquished. Thor has already returned to Midgard, but Odin thought it cause to celebrate." Kyra thought she heard a somber note in Sif's voice. "You're welcome to come as my guest if you feel up to it," she said.

"How will the king feel about my return?" Kyra asked. He had been glad to see her gone and now here she was again.

"We've no laws against Midgardians visiting Asgard," Sif assured her, coming down the stairs. "It doesn't happen often or ever, really, but I'm glad to have you here. The bath is ready. I'll lay out some clothes in the next room over."

"Thank you," Kyra said. "I'm not sure what I've done to earn your generosity."

"Who said you have to do anything?" Sif gave her a smile which Kyra returned hesitantly.

"I haven't really had many people give me something without expecting something in return," she told her. "I'm going to take that bath now," she added before Sif could come up with a response.

The bathroom was similar to hers at home with the exception of the faulty plumbing and chipped sink. The bathwater was steaming, the scent of jasmine and vanilla thick in the air. Kyra stripped off her dirty and torn clothes, tossing them into a pile before dipping her toes into the water. She let out a sigh of relief as she sunk into the tub, letting the water cover every inch of her but her nose. Her hair fanned out around her, soaking in the sweet smells.

She felt renewed as she stepped out, wrapping a plush towel around her. She wrung out her sopping hair, plaiting it to keep it out of her face. In the mirror she didn't look so scared. She'd become so used to that expression on her face that she hardly remembered ever looking different. She looked like her mom with her dark hair and eyes though she was much taller now than she remembered her mom being. Her olive-toned skin also came from her mother but her straight nose and sharp cheekbones were from her father. She was the perfect mix of them but now her memory of them had been tainted. Could her mother's smile and her father's chuckle have really been a cover for something more sinister? The first six years of her life had been normal, happy. Had it all been a lie? She braced her hands on either side of the sink basin as blackness clouded her memories. She never could get past six. She was caught in a perpetual loop of the night her parents had been found dead. She couldn't remember their deaths just the events leading up to them. They hadn't meant anything to her before, but now she wondered if the signs had been there if only she had been old enough to understand.

She took a deep breath to steady herself, filling her lungs with jasmine and vanilla and opening her eyes to find the mirror had fogged over. Maybe it was better that way.

Sif had left out a dress that Kyra could only stand and stare at. Surely she didn't mean for Kyra to wear _this_? The material was a deep red the shade of a rose just before death claimed its petals. She slipped it over her head, and it slid over her skin like silk. Several gold metal pieces lay on the bed, and Kyra fiddled with them for a few moments before figuring out what they were for. One slid around her waist like a belt while the others slid over her wrists like armor. She studied herself in a long mirror that hung on the wall, hardly recognizing herself. A pair of sandals with laces that ran up to her calves had been laid out, and she slipped those on. She looked almost Asgardian now, the sharpness of her cheekbones less severe and more like a warrior. She tilted her head to the side wondering at the trickle of confidence that had filled her when she'd slipped the dress on.

Sif was waiting downstairs for her, dressed for the feast. She looked softer without her armor and sword, hair worn down around her shoulders instead of her high ponytail. "Now you look like you fit in," she said with a smile.

"More than I fit in at home. I wouldn't mind going to the feast," she said after a pause. "It will be a good distraction." She didn't mention that all she'd eaten for a day was a bowl of cereal.

"Let me get one thing." Sif went over to the fireplace and opened a small wooden box that sat atop the mantle. She pulled out a pair of dangling ruby earrings, pinning them onto Kyra's ears. "There."

"Thank you. The dress is beautiful. Much nicer than torn jeans and a thrift store sweater." She winced. She always had a way of bringing up something awkward, and she didn't want Sif to feel sorry for her.

They walked to the palace. The sun had faded completely, but the city was alight and Kyra could hear people reveling. "It's good to hear the people happy again," Sif said. "We suffered a great tragedy when the dark elves attacked. Our queen was struck down."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Kyra glanced at Sif. "Were you close to her?"

"I don't know if I'd say that, but I had a great respect for her. She was brave and kind, a loving mother to her sons." Kyra remembered that the second son had been lost as well. She was surprised the king would be celebrating so shortly after their deaths, but perhaps Asgardians mourned differently. "What happened to you on Midgard?" Sif asked, changing the subject.

"Two men were following me," Kyra said, shuddering at the thought of her dark apartment and the scraping of the lock pick. "I ran, but they caught up to me. They wanted to question me about my parents. They said…they said my parents worked for their organization. I didn't want to believe them, but I think they were telling the truth. My parents died when I was six, and I can't remember anything after that up until the first foster family adopted me. It's like there's this blank void where memories should be. I know they didn't die of natural causes. The men said they were researching something and that they'd stolen some of the research. They wanted it back, but I don't have it. How could I?" She had nothing of her parents' save their blood and their name.

"I am sorry they caused you such distress. Did they hurt you? You had a knife when you arrived in Asgard."

"Just a few cuts and scrapes," she told Sif. "I…I fought them off. They were pulled into the Bifrost with me so I kicked them off of me. Stabbed one of them."

"You are much braver than you give yourself credit for. You have a warrior's heart, Kyra Winters," Sif said encouragingly.

"I don't know about that," Kyra hastened to say. "I was terrified. My bag ripped and my medication fell out. I don't know what's going to happen without it. I haven't stopped taking my pills since I was a child."

"They help you stay calm," Sif remembered.

"That and…well, level. Without them the whole world seems to tilt. Not literally just…I have trouble figuring out what's real and what's not." She thought back to the man she'd seen on the throne in place of Odin.

"Well, I will personally see to it that you are not put into any situations that might make you anxious," Sif told her.

Kyra laughed. "Then we will have nothing to worry about." She chewed her lip nervously, hoping that was true.

The palace was lit up like a hundred thousand fireflies and filled with the sounds of merriment. Kyra hesitated at the entrance to the feast hall, but Sif took her arm, ushering her in. "Don't worry," she told Kyra. "You are among friends here. Let me introduce you to the Warriors Three. I have fought many battles by their sides."

She pulled Kyra over to three men both as different as the next. The first was rotund with red hair and a bushy red beard. He was already starting into the food though Kyra didn't see that it had been served at the table yet. He turned to give Sif a wide smile. "Volstagg, I'd like you to meet Kyra. Kyra, this brute is Volstagg, but don't let his size intimidate you."

"A pleasure," the big man said, adjusting the food he held so he could kiss her hand.

"And then we have Hogun." Hogun had long black hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He nodded politely to her, but his face remained serious. "And last but not least, Fandral."

"Charmed," Fandral said, claiming her hand to kiss it. "Where have you been hiding?" He was blonde and handsome in an entirely too charming way. Kyra made note to be careful of him.

"Earth," she told him. "I'm from Midgard."

"Then we are lucky to be in your company on this fine night. Might I interest you in a drink of wine?" he asked, reaching for a goblet from one of the staff.

"No, thank you," Kyra told him firmly.

"Now, now, Fandral. Leave her alone," Sif warned, pulling Kyra away. "Never mind him. He's a hopeless flirt, but he never lacks for women." They made their way to the table where the guests were beginning to take their seats. Odin sat at the head of the table. Sif and Kyra were seated on the side, and Kyra was happy to see Fandral was seated down several seats between two beautiful women.

The food was served, and Kyra had to blink at the abundance of it. There were platters of fruit that looked as if they had been plucked moments before, heaping piles of mouth-watering meat, delicate greens mixed with walnuts and cranberries. The food went on and on, and Kyra was full long before anyone else stopped eating. Volstagg had piled his plate so high she was surprised it didn't tip over.

No one looked at her twice, and she was relieved she was blending in in the dress Sif had loaned her. The merriment continued as music started up across the hall. The wine was flowing freely and the chattering was nearly deafening. Kyra felt overwhelmed but instead of it turning into anxiety, she felt oddly safe. She was perfectly full and the air was warm enough to lull her into a sleepy haze. She almost missed it when the old woman sitting at the very end of the table began to lose years like she was shedding a layer of skin. Kyra had been watching the guests, wondering what their stories were, when her eyes caught on the grey-haired woman. She wasn't speaking with anyone which Kyra thought strange. She stared intently ahead at the king, and Kyra thought perhaps she had her eye on him now that the queen was gone. Then the grey began to darken into black, the strands curling and lengthening until they reached past her shoulders. Her drab blue dress turned to a deep shade of green woven with black threading. Wrinkled skin smoothed out to pale perfection. Grey eyes morphed into an acidic green. Kyra could only stare.

Then the woman pulled a knife from her bodice and stood. No one else seemed to see what she was doing. Kyra looked around, but everyone was chattering away, completely unaware of what was happening. "Sif…" Kyra tried to call her friend's attention, but Sif couldn't hear her over the hum of conversation. The woman was drawing back now, and Kyra saw she meant to hit the king. Her mind went blank. No one else could see it. Was that because it wasn't actually happening or because she was the only one _able_ to see it?

The woman tilted her hand back to throw, and Kyra made up her mind. She might look a fool if she were only seeing things, but if not… She snatched her empty plate and threw it outward as the knife was flung. "STOP!" she shouted.

The hall fell into silence just as the knife hit her plate, rebounding off of it with a metallic clang. All eyes fell on her. Kyra felt her cheeks burn. She pointed at the woman. "She tried to kill the king," she said, her voice weak. No one spoke. Then suddenly the people sitting around the woman gasped. She seemed to have revealed herself to the room, and Kyra felt a surge of gratitude. She hadn't been making it up after all. But did that mean…? Before she had the chance to figure out just what it meant, the king spoke.

"Enchantress." Kyra's breath froze in her lungs. She slowly turned her head to the king though it was not the king's voice that had spoken. Rising from his seat was not Odin, king of Asgard, but the younger man she had seen sitting on his throne the day she'd arrived.

Dark and lithe, he stood in robes of green and black, a horned, golden helmet upon his head. She'd thought his eyes were green before, but now she saw that they were a mixture of blue and green. Though he spoke to the woman across the room, his eyes slid to Kyra, and he knew in that moment that she could see him. Fascination flitted across his face before he turned back to the woman who'd tried to kill him.

As he spoke to the would-be murderess, Kyra began to realize that she was the only one who could see him. Everyone else was seeing Odin, the old man who, as far as she knew, was supposed to be standing there. "Why have you come here? You are not welcome." The words sounded strange coming from the dark-haired man. Kyra thought they sounded stilted as if his own words would flow out as smooth as the silk of her dress. As they had when he'd visited her cell the night before.

"I heard Asgard's prince had moved to Midgard for good," the Enchantress said, looking unconcerned at having been caught. "I thought it might be a good chance to strike while a weak king sat on the throne."

"You will find that I am not so weak," Odin-not-Odin said.

"I did not realize you employed a Truth-Seer," the Enchantress said, her acid green eyes flitting to Kyra. Kyra wanted to shrink down in her seat as everyone's eyes turned to her. Kyra saw a glint of silver and saw that Sif had pulled a knife from somewhere and was holding it in her lap, ready to strike if need be.

"Guards. Take this woman to the dungeons," the king-not-king demanded.

The Enchantress laughed, and the sound of it sent chills down Kyra's spine. "Oh, don't think it's going to be that easy," she said. She twirled her fingers and green smoke erupted around her causing the guards to cough and splutter. "This isn't the last time you'll see me, Odin." Then she was gone, vanished into the air as if she'd never been there.

Kyra was incredibly relieved that everyone else was seeing what she was seeing. For the first time, she wasn't crazy. Then Odin-not-Odin turned to her, eyes fierce. "Come child, I would like to speak with you. Alone," he added when Sif moved to follow Kyra.

"Are you okay?" Sif asked her as Kyra made to get up from the bench.

"I'll be fine," Kyra told her with an unconvincing smile. "I just saved his life, so I hope he won't send me packing back to Midgard."

Sif let her go, and Kyra made her way toward the dark-haired man. She could feel eyes watching her the whole way and tried not to let her nerves get the better of her. The fake king led her into a private chamber past the throne room, and Kyra waited nervously for him to speak.

"What do you see?" he asked, echoing the same question he'd asked her once before when she'd still seen him as the old man.

"Do you want the truth or the illusion?" she asked.

"The truth." His words were hard, but she could hear the curiosity behind his tone. He was fascinated by her, and she wasn't sure if she found this frightening or relieving.

"I see you whoever you really are. Not an old man. Not a king. Who _are_ you?" she asked, her own curiosity getting the better of her.

A smile twisted his lips, eyes glinting in the dim room. "My name is Loki, adopted son of Odin and currently king of Asgard, and I have a proposition for you."


	6. Five: God of Mischief

**Five – God of Mischief**

Loki watched the girl expectantly but she said nothing, waiting for him to tell her what his proposition was. It felt good to shed his guise and even better to have escaped an assassination attempt made by the notorious Enchantress otherwise known as Amora. Loki had to admit it stung his pride a little that her illusion had fooled him but not the mortal girl. "I'll admit you were helpful tonight," Loki said, letting his eyes slide to the girl. He hadn't recognized her at the feast in that dress, the golden cuffs shining on her waist and wrists, catching the candlelight. She'd looked so plain before in her mortal clothes, face half hidden behind her long hair. Now it was pulled back in a neat plait, the sharp plains of cheekbones prominent. She was tall for a mortal girl though her head only reached the top of his shoulder. Bare shoulders were held straight, and her graceful neck was exposed. She was trying not to look frightened, he realized. It wasn't fooling him though.

"I suppose not having a knife sticking out of your neck is pretty helpful." The retort caught him off guard, and he found himself chuckling despite himself.

"The Enchantress is not easily outwitted," he continued on. "She'll be back to try again."

"She couldn't see you?" Loki shook his head.

"Just a feeble old man."

The girl narrowed her eyes. "You really don't like your father, do you?"

"Adopted father," Loki corrected automatically. "And last time he saw me, he sentenced me to a lifetime in the dungeons, so no."

"But you didn't know it was this Enchantress chick until she revealed herself, so she must be pretty powerful then." The girl was watching him carefully. _Needling_ him? That was his game, and he wasn't sure how he felt about her playing too.

"How very _Midgardian_ you sound," he said derisively. "And no, I didn't realize it was her. Yet. I would have." Truth be told, the Enchantress was very powerful. A worthy adversary though he'd never admit that out loud. If the Enchantress ever found out that he was on the throne in place of Odin, his entire plan would be at risk. Now he just had to convince this mortal not to give everything away. He studied her, wondering just what was going through that head of hers.

"Clearly you can see things others can't," he continued.

"She called me a Truth-Seer. What is that?" the girl asked him, frowning.

"Just as it sounds – someone who can see past illusions. Someone like you." He had been surprised that a mortal would have such a power. She'd thought she was crazy, but that was typical of close-minded mortals. They had such difficulty believing in anything out of the ordinary. "Which brings me to my proposal. Amora – the Enchantress – is going to strike again. _You_ are going to keep an eye out for her and inform me if you see her."

"That sounds more like a demand than a proposal," the girl said stiltedly.

"Think of it as a trade. You keep Amora from another sneak attack; I don't send you back to Midgard. I already relieved Heimdall of his duties earlier. He was a liability which brings me to my next point. You tell anyone," he took a step toward the girl, satisfied when she shrunk back, " _anyone_ that I sit on the throne and not Odin, I will reserve you a permanent cell in the dungeons, and you'll never see the light of day again." Her back hit the wall, and he could tell she was wishing she could sink into it. Her pupils were wide as she looked up at him, and her olive skin had paled.

"Do we have a deal?" he asked, placing a hand on the wall beside her, blocking her from the door. Whatever fragrance she'd rubbed on her skin filled the air between them, and he found himself leaning closer despite himself.

"Why will you not show your subjects your true face?" she asked, throwing him off guard.

"What?"

"If I'm going to be protecting you from the Enchantress and keeping your secret I think I deserve to know why you're keeping your identity a secret." She said it all with a frown, and Loki couldn't help but laugh, pulling away, a smile raising the corners of his lips.

"How delightfully naïve you are," he said. "I keep forgetting you have no idea half of what I've done."

"I know you invaded Earth last year."

"And do you know why? Do you know even the slightest detail of my past? Of my history? Of Odin and the throne _he_ denied me? You wouldn't be asking that question if you knew." He realized he was shouting and lowered his voice. No need to call attention to himself. "Do you agree to my terms? In return for your ability and discretion, I will allow you to stay in the palace and do everything in my power to keep you safe."

The girl didn't speak right away. Loki was beginning to think he hadn't intimidated her quite enough when she finally gave him her answer. "I don't feel as if you've left me any choice at all, so I offer this as a counter-proposal." He groaned out loud, and she raised a hand to silence him. "I will give you _my_ protection and keep your secret if you prove to me that you deserve the throne. Clearly you think you deserve it. I want to know why. Forget whatever you've done in the past; I didn't know that you."

"I don't have to prove _anything_ to you," he hissed at her. How was it this mere mortal got a rise out of him so easily? She somehow twisted his words around so that she was the one making the terms.

"I don't think it's really me you need to prove your worthiness to. Do we have a deal?" She looked so innocent standing there with her dark eyes wide and unassuming. He'd do well to quit underestimating her. She'd already gotten the better of him more times than he'd like to admit. He was supposed to be the manipulator not some puny mortal from Midgard.

"If you're not in the palace by tomorrow morning, I'll send the guards after you and have you arrested," he told her. "If you say one word to Lady Sif I'll have her banished to Midgard."

"You don't have to keep making threats," she told him angrily, the fear gone from her eyes. "You've made it very clear the position I'm in. Now, if you'll excuse me, Lady Sif will be wondering where I've gotten to." She sent him a scathing look before prying open the door with more force than necessary and slamming it behind her.

Loki stayed a minute more in the room before resuming his Odin guise and rejoining the celebrations. Sif and the girl were already gone, and no one was in much of a mood for revelry after the attempted assassination. Loki halted the celebrations and let his guards escort him back to his – _Odin's_ – room.

It had been a long and tiring day, and he was glad to be alone. He didn't want to admit how close Amora had been to sinking that knife straight into his heart. He liked to think he was one of the most powerful magical beings in all of Asgard, but he knew that wasn't entirely the truth. Amora was powerful too. He wondered if she still would have thrown that knife if she had known it was him under the guise of Odin. Probably. Especially after the last time they'd met.

…

Back at Sif's house, Kyra took the dangly earrings off and changed into a soft tunic and pants. They hadn't discussed what had happened at the feast nor had Sif asked Kyra what the king had wanted to discuss with her. Kyra _had_ told her that she was expected at the palace in the morning. She wasn't sure how she felt about becoming a bodyguard of sorts to the king. To _Loki_. She had wanted to ask Sif all about Loki, but she was sworn to secrecy. She knew Loki would make good on his word, and she did not want to spend any more time in the Asgardian dungeons.

Her thoughts strayed to the Enchantress or Amora as Loki had called her. She wondered what sort of history the two had because it was clear there was one. Had Amora once been an ally? Perhaps a lover? Or had she always been an enemy? Clearly she was an enemy of Odin, but would she have thrown the knife if it had been Loki and not Odin in appearance? Too many questions, and Kyra didn't know how she had ended up tangled in them. There was one good thing that had come from the eventful evening; she hadn't thought of her parents or their mysterious pasts since she'd first arrived in Asgard. Somehow she'd come to accept Asgard as perfectly plausible when she might have thought herself going mad – madder than usual anyway.

She slipped under the soft blankets of the bed in Sif's spare room, her eyelids heavy. Her full stomach made her sleepy despite the excitement of that night. Slipping into the currents of sleep, Kyra dreamt of her parents. It wasn't so much a dream but a memory – one she had long ago forgotten. She knew she was the little girl, five or perhaps six. It was like watching someone else's life. She couldn't exactly remember it – couldn't remember having lived it – but she knew it had happened.

She was in her childhood home again, a spacious two-story with a brick façade and white framed windows like straight teeth. The door was red – the color of ripe cherries. They had a green lawn and a white picket fence. Normal. Safe. Kyra remembered being happy, swinging in the backyard on a wooden plank tied to a tree with two thick strands of rope. Someone pushed her though she couldn't see whom. She felt strong, gentle hands on her back as she pumped her legs, swinging high into the air. She felt like she was flying.

She heard the squeak of the front gate. Her father always forgot to oil it. The hands were gone from her back, but Kyra thought nothing of it. She was already so high that she didn't need anyone pushing her. She saw a shape moving toward the front of the house, but her eyes were set on the sky, on the white clouds that looked like cotton candy. Somewhere in the distance she heard voices. They were hurried, upset though she hadn't realized it at the time. She heard the front door close, heard the voices inside, floating out through the open windows in the kitchen.

Kyra stopped pumping her legs, letting momentum take her up and back down again. The voices got louder as the swing slowed. She couldn't make out what they were saying, couldn't understand their words anyway. She wasn't old enough to understand the significance or that this was the beginning of the end.

The swing was slowing down now, and Kyra let it. She heard the front door slam shut, saw a man heading to a waiting car. He glanced back at the house, and Kyra saw her father run up to the fence, shouting something after the man. Then her mother was running out of the back of the house, scooping Kyra up in her arms and carrying her inside, out of sight of the man her father was shouting at.

"What's wrong?" Kyra asked. Her mother's cheeks were streaked with tears, her eyes red and swollen.

"Nothing," her mom said, forcing a smile. She carried Kyra upstairs to her room, past the hallway with the locked door. "Just a little misunderstanding, love, nothing to worry about."

"Is Daddy okay?" Kyra tried to peer over her mother's shoulder, but she couldn't hear her father anymore.

"He's fine, baby, just fine," her mom soothed her, setting her down on her bed. "You just stay in here and play for a little while Mommy and Daddy talk."

Kyra started to set up her dolls for a tea party but the sound of a door slamming downstairs stilled her hands. She heard her mother's voice now, raised like when she was angry. Kyra clutched a doll to her chest, suddenly frightened. A car door slammed and an engine revved. There was silence after that then the sound of her mother sobbing. "We have to leave!" she said, her voice a wail.

"You know we can't do that. They'll come after us. They'll hurt Kyra."

Kyra knew what it meant to hurt. She'd broken her arm last year when she'd jumped from the swing from too high up. She didn't want to be hurt, and she didn't want her mom or dad to be hurt either.

"This has gotten too dangerous. We have to hand over our research. We can't stall any longer," Kyra's mother told her father.

"You know we can't do that. They can't be trusted."

"We could turn to Shield..."

"No," Kyra's father cut off her mother's words. "They can't help us. They won't. Not after what happened. We're on our own."

Kyra's dream began to fade, and she woke to find that she was back in Asgard, her skin clammy. The room felt overly warm so she flung the blankets aside and tiptoed down the stairs. The back door led out onto the small yard, a garden occupying the space with an abundance of color and fragrance. The soft lapping of water soothed Kyra as she walked to the narrow river that ran along the back of the yard. She could hear crickets somewhere in the flowerbeds and the far-off call of some nocturnal bird. This was so different from England, so different from Seattle or any place she had ever been on Earth. Everything was calm and quiet, and the moon sent milky white reflections over the golden towers of the palace. She could see the Bifrost from here – the rainbow road that led up to it and the domed building that Heimdall watched over – _used to_ watch over thanks to Loki.

She still felt unsettled by her resurfaced memory; she was sure that was what it was. Her parents had been in trouble – someone after their research. It wasn't any more than she had already been told by the Hydra agents, but it was so much more real remembering the fear her parents had felt after that visit. Kyra couldn't remember what had happened after that. She had a few memories of her early childhood but nothing significant. Nothing that would help her figure out the mystery that was her parents' lives and deaths.

The night air was cool, and her skin cooled with it until she didn't feel so feverish. Her mind was as clear as the night – sharper than she could ever remember it being before. The fog from the drugs was gone. Her anxiety hadn't crept out to cripple her mind. She wondered if she'd ever needed any of the medication prescribed to her. After her parents had died and she'd been taken in by her first foster family, they'd insisted on taking her to a psychologist claiming that she saw things that weren't really there and said unsettling things to them. The older she got, the more diagnoses she'd received until she had a laundry list of things that were apparently wrong with her. She hadn't really questioned it. Not until now. She felt a surge of excitement at the sudden freedom. She could get to know herself without the medication dulling her senses. She could be herself without people judging her. Maybe Loki wasn't someone she could trust, but he saw her abilities as a gift and not a madness. He was the first person to do so. The first person to make her feel like an actual person and not some disease.

Some people moved to another city to find a new life. Sometimes, like her, a new country. Now she was so far removed from anything she had ever known that she felt like she might really be able to start a new life, a new identity. She would no longer be defined by how many foster homes she'd been juggled around to nor how many pills she took a day. Kyra Winters could become someone new.

…

In the morning she told Sif what had passed between her and the king. She didn't mention that the king was actually Loki under an illusion though she felt bad lying. She wanted to see what kind of king Loki was before she judged him. She also needed to tread carefully while the threat of imprisonment still hung over her head.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Sif asked as she walked Kyra to the door. Kyra was dressed in some of Sif's clothes again this time black leggings with a tunic style shirt the same shade of red as the dress she'd worn the night before with a belt to go around her waist. The boots were a soft leather and came up to Kyra's knees. Sif had also given her a cloak, and Kyra felt guilty for the gifts. She'd never worn such fine clothing before, but Sif waved off her protests. "I expect you to visit from time to time," she had told Kyra. "It gets a bit lonely sometimes with Thor gone." Kyra had tucked the knife Loki had left her into her belt against the small of her back where the cloak kept it hidden. Her torn bag was over her shoulder.

"All these years I've thought I was crazy. Now someone is telling me I have a gift that could help keep the king and the kingdom safe. I want to try to use it," she told Sif.

"Odin is a good king," Sif said. "But don't let him bully you."

Kyra nodded, wishing again she could tell Sif the truth. Sif walked her to the palace though Kyra was beginning to remember the way. She left her at the doors when Kyra told her she'd be all right. She felt a sense of foreboding, however, when Sif walked away, leaving Kyra alone before the golden palace. She entered, finding her way to the throne room. Two guards flanked the tall doors that led in but they let her pass without a word, opening the doors so she could enter. The long hall echoed with her footsteps as she approached the throne. She was half afraid she'd see the old man again in place of the younger, dark-haired one. It was Loki who sat on the throne today, however, gazing intently down on Kyra.

"You came," he said. They were alone, and his words echoed in the hall, wrapping around her like heavy blanket. She forced herself not to feel intimidated.

"Did I really have a choice?" Kyra countered.

"I gave you a choice," Loki said. "You chose to come here rather than reacquaint yourself with the dungeons."

"Right. Because the dungeons were so inviting the first time. Actually it was a little nicer than my flat back home," she admitted.

"Humans do have such...quaint little hovels."

"Poor college students certainly do."

"You were a student?" He leaned forward, resting his elbow on his knee and his chin on his hand. Kyra shifted under his scrutiny, wondering if she was to simply stand here all day and amuse him.

"I was up until the Dark Elf attack. Now everyone thinks I'm dead." She said it bitterly but really she wasn't so sure it was a bad thing. The people who had been chasing after her would think she was dead too.

"Everyone thinks I'm dead too," Loki said matter-of-factly.

"Well, that was a nice ice-breaker. Shall we move on to 20 questions?" Kyra knew she should be more careful, but something about Loki made her words come out brash.

"Do all your kind spout off nonsense?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"Why am I here? I mean, I know _why_ but are we going to just stand here and talk or do you actually have something for me to do?"

Loki stood in one swift motion like a cat gracefully unfolding itself after a long nap. "So eager to protect your king," he said, his voice mocking.

"You're not _my_ king. My country doesn't have a king, but you would know that already considering you tried to overthrow it."

"Don't be so overdramatic." He looked amused, and she wondered if she might have made a mistake accepting his offer. "What other stories did Lady Sif tell you?"

"Nothing. Just that you were dead. Supposedly."

"Did you tell her anything about me?" he asked, eyes going suddenly hard, all playfulness gone as if it had never been there to begin with. She was beginning to think she'd underestimated him in her haste to save her own skin.

"No."

"Good. Can you fight?"

The question caught her off guard. "I-yes, a little. I learned self-defense."

"I did notice that," Loki said, his eyes glinting again. "I'll admit I was surprised by how easily you disarmed me. I clearly underestimated you."

"Can you tell me more about my powers?" Kyra asked, desperate to understand who she was. _What_ she was. "You have powers too." She saw through illusions, he created them. It had a certain symmetry to it.

"I know you can see through illusions but what I don't know is how. I've never known a mortal with abilities like that before. Were you born with them?"

"No. I don't think so. I don't know." She realized how little she really knew about herself. She hardly remembered her past, and she couldn't exactly ask her parents. Loki chuckled.

"That's not much to go on." He tsked his tongue. "If you're going to be of any use to me, we'll need to hone your skills." He paced around her like he was studying a specimen. Kyra felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. She didn't like people getting that close to her – didn't like people out of her line of sight. She twisted around so she could follow him with her eyes. "Now that the Enchantress knows you can see through her illusions, she'll try to take you out to get to me – to Odin. You need to be ready for anything."

"Take me out." Kyra felt a twinge of fear. She hadn't thought about that. She might be skilled at self-defense, but she didn't like her chances against someone like Amora. Her knife throwing had been quick and precise. "Can you teach me how to fight?" she asked.

Loki stopped pacing, standing before her. "Do you still have that knife?" he asked as if reading her mind.

"Yes." She narrowed her eyes. "Why?"

"Because I'm going to teach you how to use it."


	7. Six: Knife Play

**Six – Knife Play**

Loki watched with amusement as the mortal took in his words. "As long as I don't end up with one of the Enchantress's knives in my back, then I have no objections," she finally said.

"Hopefully we can avoid that." He knew Amora would see the girl as a threat now as well as an easy target. If he wanted the mortal's abilities for his own use, then he needed to make sure she wasn't going to drop dead at Amora's next attempt to kill Odin.

"I won't be much good to you dead," the girl agreed. "If you want me to see through illusions, I still need to be breathing."

Loki rolled his eyes upwards. "Forget the knife. Your words might be sharp enough."

"I forgot you like your mortals bowing and scraping, don't you?" She lifted a brow accusatorily.

"I'd settle for a few 'Your Majesties' today."

"How about I go easy on you instead." The knife he'd given her was in her hand though he hadn't seen her reach for it. He silently berated himself for not paying closer attention.

"Not here. I think my guards might not be so forgiving if they walked in on you holding a knife to their beloved king." Loki motioned for her to follow him. "You won't be able to see it, but I'm going to disguise myself as a guard. We can train on the training grounds where there are targets."

"You're not volunteering to be my target?" she asked, falling into step with him. He glanced down at her. Despite her fear last night when he'd threatened her, she seemed alarmingly unperturbed by him. He couldn't have her getting too comfortable around him. It would lead to her being less compliant, and he needed to be able to control her.

"So if I'm supposed to see _through_ illusions, how does it work if I can't actually see the illusion itself?" the girl asked as they breached the open air.

"That's something you'll have to practice," he told her. "Can you see my illusion? Concentrate on the magic. Feel the air. You should be able to see it if you concentrate hard enough."

She stared at him, and he had to grab her arm to stop her from running straight into a pillar. He steered her away from any obstructions as she continued to study him. "I just see you," she said after a moment. "I...I _think_ I can feel that something's off, but I can't see the illusion."

"Think of it as a second skin. It has edges. Find the edges and you'll see the whole picture." He was sure it was easier said than done. As far as he knew, the mortal's abilities were simply an innate ability to see through illusions and not born of magic. The more she struggled, the surer he was that she had no magic running through her veins.

"I thought I saw a flash of green!" She nearly jumped with excitement, startling a couple of courtiers they were passing.

"Keep it down. You don't want everyone in Asgard to know about this," Loki hissed at her, throwing her a venomous look. She didn't even flinch, but she did lower her voice as she spoke again.

"When my medication was starting to wear off and I was starting to see through your illusion, I thought I saw an outline of green. Was that your magic?" She was so curious, and Loki found himself wanting to tell her more about his magic at the same time as wanting to guard himself against her questions. Her curiosity was innocent though, and he saw no harm in telling her a little more.

"Yes–"

"Were you born with it or did you learn it?" she continued before he could say any more. Irritation prickled along the back of his neck.

"I was born with it, but my– I was trained." He caught himself before he could mention his mother. The pain of losing her was still so fresh, and he refused to let this mortal see that pain.

Her eyes lit up with excitement. "By whom? Can I be trained too to use magic too or–"

"No," he cut her off, his voice sharp as the knife she held loosely at her side. "Humans don't have magic. They're too weak, so don't ask again."

She didn't question him further, and they continued walking in silence until they reached the training field. There were a few soldiers about, but the targets and training dummies were open. Loki waited for the girl to start questioning him again, but she seemed to have gotten the message. He felt oddly disappointed as she waited for him to instruct her. "Fighting with knives is an art form," he told her, pulling out his two favored knives that he kept at his side. "It requires a balance of accuracy and patience. When wielded correctly, knives can be devastating. They aren't heavy or ungainly like a sword might be, but they also require closer combat in certain circumstances. Otherwise they can be thrown at a distance, as you saw for yourself."

The girl watched him, nodding to his words but keeping quiet. He hardly dared hope he'd cowed her into compliance. "Hold your knife. I want to see your grip." She held up her knife in her right hand. "Are you buttering bread or protecting yourself?" he asked her.

She frowned, readjusting her grip. "Like this?"

"More like this." He readjusted her fingers, prying them loose from their death grip on the hilt. "You want a firm grip on it but not so firm that your knuckles are going to start aching. You might also need to quickly readjust depending on where your enemy is coming from." He demonstrated with his own knives, swiping deftly at one of the straw training dummies. "You try."

The girl bit her lip in concentration, trying to mimic Loki's movements with her own knife. "Relax," he told her. "You look like you've been asked to skin a bilgesnipe."

"A _what_?" she asked, turning her concentration from the dummy to him.

"I'll introduce you to one some day," he told her with a smirk.

"No, thank you." She turned back to the dummy again and continued to practice swiping at it. He readjusted her grip a few times, but soon she was sending straw flying, a satisfied smile widening on her face. "This is oddly therapeutic."

"Ready to try the targets?" he asked when he was satisfied that she had the basics down. She was no match for someone like Amora but if she was going to protect him, she needed to be able to protect herself. He half wondered if it was a good idea to teach her how to use a knife, but somehow he didn't think she'd try to use it on him. Unless he angered her - then he wasn't entirely sure just what she would do. The girl nodded at his question, moving over to the targets. He started her at five paces away and showed her how to hold the knife tip first. "It's all in the wrist," he told her. "You keep the wrist loose, but keep the blade balanced and steady. Practice throwing first, and then we'll work on accuracy."

She flung the knife, and it soared through the air before hitting the very outside of the target. "I hit it!" she exclaimed, turning to beam at Loki.

"Shoulder injury. It wouldn't incapacitate anyone. Except maybe a mortal."

Her smile turned into a scowl, and she stomped over to the target to pull out the knife. This time when she released the knife it quivered closer to the center. "I was picturing your face this time," she told him, giving him a wicked grin over her shoulder. She shot for the next half an hour, her posture and accuracy improving significantly by the time he called for her to stop.

"Decent," he told her, refusing to admit she had some natural talent with knife throwing.

"I'll take compliments where I can get them." She tucked the knife away in her belt.

"I expect you back here every morning for practice," he told her. "Tired or can you handle more?"

"What did you have in mind?" He saw determination in her dark eyes.

Morning had turned to afternoon, the sun glowing overhead and turning the palace into molten gold. He breathed in the fresh air. It hadn't gotten old yet – being able to go outside, to feel the sun on his skin. He'd been resigned to a lifetime of imprisonment after he'd been returned from his failed mission on Earth. Now that all of Asgard thought him dead, he was free. He'd never have to be locked away again as long as his secret remained safe. As long as all of Asgard thought him to be his father. It occurred to him that perhaps he was not so free after all.

His mood darkened considerably after that and the girl seemed to pick up on it, staying silent as they walked back to the palace. "We need to continue testing your abilities," he told her finally. "If you can't see when an illusion is being used, you're nearly useless to me."

She frowned. "I don't think being able to see the Enchantress when no one else can really qualifies as useless. Can you tell me more about her?"

Loki scowled. "She's dangerous, and she'd kill both of us given the chance. We don't want that to happen."

"I'd gathered that much," the girl said, her frown deepening.

Loki was still in the guise of a guard, and he maintained that until they reached an empty room inside the palace where they wouldn't be disturbed. The girl waited patiently for him to begin, dark eyes curious and much more cunning than Loki felt comfortable with. "I'm going to cast an illusion," he told her. "And you're going to try to see it not just _through_ it."

"All right." She sounded doubtful.

"If you don't believe you can do it, you most certainly will not be able to," he told her archly. She simply lifted an eyebrow and waited for him to start. He started simple, casting the illusion of a golden bowl filled with acid green apples on the table before them. "Well?"

She squinted at the place where Loki motioned to, biting her lip as she concentrated. "Maybe if you told me what I was looking for, I'd be able to see it," she told him after a moment.

"Apples," he said with a sigh. "A bowl of apples."

"Describe them."

Another sigh, this one more pointed. "The apples are fresh – a green the shade of poison so shiny you can see your reflection in them. They're in a golden bowl cut with intricate patterns and set with gems."

"I...I think I can see something." The girl furrowed her brow, staring a hole into the table until, finally, "I can see it!" She reached out, hesitating before she could snatch an apple. "Can I touch it?"

"I can't create apples out of thin air, but I can create the illusion of them being real. Try taking a bite out of one."

The girl slowly reached her hand forward before taking one of the apples. "I can't feel it."

"That's because you know it isn't real. You have to trick your mind into believing it is." It might not work for her. Loki had never tested his illusions against a Truth-seer before.

"I can smell it," she said after a moment, drawing it close to her mouth and taking a bite. White teeth sunk into the green skin. She paused mid-chew. "You didn't poison them, did you?" she asked.

"They're not real. Even if I had, they wouldn't do you any harm," he told her, amused at her wariness. It was well placed.

"I can't taste it."

Loki waved his hand, and the illusion disappeared. "That's because it isn't real, and you know it. Anyway, the point is to train you to see and recognize illusions, not be tricked by them."

"Try another one," the girl requested. Loki nearly snapped at her demand, but he would be the one benefiting from training her so he curbed his response.

He waved his hand and a snake appeared on the table before them, emerald scales shimmering in the sunlight. It flicked its forked tongue out, bead-black eyes set on the girl. She jumped a little at the hiss. "Did you create a _snake_?" she asked with a shudder.

"What's wrong?" Loki asked with a smug smile. "Don't like snakes?"

"Not particularly," the girl responded, cutting her eyes toward Loki. They hardened in determination, and she turned back to face the illusion. "I can see the outlines of it – your magic, I guess." The snake slipped forward on the table until it was a few feet away from her. When she jumped backwards, Loki knew she could see it.

"Good. You're learning," he said, letting the snake wrap up his arm before vanishing. The girl shuddered again. "Had enough?"

"One more," she told him. "Can you cast an illusion over yourself?" she asked.

He considered for a moment before changing himself into Amora. The girl jumped again. "That's scary realistic," she said. "But I can also see around it. See you."

"Good." He changed back into himself. "That's enough for today. I'll have a guard show you to your room."

"Can't I stay with Lady Sif?" the girl asked, frowning.

"And risk you telling her the truth? I think not. You'll stay here."

He thought she might try to argue, but she managed to keep her mouth shut. "Fine."

Loki changed back into the guise of Odin before they left the room, the illusion settling over him like a weight. "That's it?" He lifted an eyebrow at her.

"I don't see any use in arguing," she replied. "I have a feeling I'd end up in the dungeons if I did."

"You're catching on." He motioned to a guard. "Take Miss Winters to one of the guest rooms in the west wing." He added to her, "Someone can bring you your meals. I'll send for you if I need anything from you."

"Great," she said. "Just another prison."

"This one has windows." Loki watched as she followed the guard from the throne room. He rubbed his temples, feeling weary from spending all morning with the mortal girl. He seated himself on the throne, gazing down the long hall. He closed his eyes and began to plan for what he would do now that he was king of Asgard.


	8. Seven: Asgardian Libations

**Author's note:** Sorry it's been awhile. I've been working on rewriting/editing a book I wrote awhile back. It's my goal to try to get it published this year. No idea if that will actually happen, but I'm working really hard on it. So if I don't post consistently, that is why. I promise I won't take too long to update! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Thank you for the favorites, follows, and reviews!

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 **Seven – Asgardian Libations**

The room the guards brought her to was less a room and more a suite. Judging by the opulence of the palace, she decided this was probably one of the more modest rooms. After she shut the door behind her, she dropped her bag on a velvet-upholstered ottoman and turned in a circle, taking in the entirety of it all. Stone columns rested a domed ceiling on their shoulders, bold splashes of color brightening the curved panels. The walls were marbled stone, lit up by glowing sconces – some sort of ethereal light that could have been magic. The furniture was set around a fireplace, thick rugs splayed over the marble floor. A four-poster bed surrounded by sheer curtains sat against the opposite wall. There was a bathroom set off to one side; the bath itself was sunk into the floor and the size of a small swimming pool. A set of glass-paned doors next to the bed led out onto a balcony. Kyra pushed them open, a warm breeze meeting her like an old friend. And the view… Breathtaking was an understatement. She leaned her elbows on the stone railing and let out a deep breath. She could feel the tension that had gathered on her shoulders that morning falling away. She'd never felt this relaxed. Oddly enough, she'd also never felt this safe. She thought perhaps the threat of the Enchantress assassinating her would send her into a relapse, but the thought was distant. Her mind had never achieved such a level of clarity, and it helped her rationalize her fears and put them to rest.

She unpacked her pitiful belongings: her remaining books, the bag of squashed Sour Patch Kids, the odd notebook and pen. The bag she shoved under the bed. There was one bookshelf with half a dozen books in the room, and her mind drifted back to the room Loki had first revealed himself to her in. There had been books there – a small library, perhaps the king's personal one. She wondered if she could find it again. Better yet, she wondered if the palace housed a _bigger_ library for her to explore. The thought of an endless supply of history books about an entire world she didn't know existed sent trills of excitement through her. She pulled off her boots and dropped onto the bed, sinking into the thick blanket on top and closing her eyes with a sigh.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. She missed Sif's cozy house, the company of her new friend, and the quiet trickle of the river outside. The room was too quiet, too lonely. She even found herself missing Loki's sharp retorts. She didn't think he would be warming up to her any time soon, and she was perfectly fine with that. He'd made it very clear where she stood, that if she did not do as he asked, he would throw her back in the dungeons. Manipulator. That was what he was. A part of her admired that easy way he demanded people around. She'd never had the luxury of getting people to do what she wanted. Growing up it had been the opposite, and the medication had dulled her enough to let herself be put down. Not any more though. She wanted a say in her life, a say in how people treated her. Loki was a king, but he wasn't _her_ king. She owed him nothing. In fact, she was holding all the cards. She knew his identity. A slip of her tongue would have _him_ back in the dungeons warming the cell he'd so graciously booked for her. She wasn't ready to play that card though. Wasn't ready to let go of that little bit of an advantage she had over him. She didn't doubt he could make her life miserable if she tried to reveal his identity. She didn't know Odin, didn't know the former king or if he made a better king than his adopted son. Kyra wasn't lying when she said she'd wanted Loki to prove to her that he was worthy of the title. If he wanted the throne so badly, then there must have been a reason for it. Perhaps simply power, but Loki was a thinker, a manipulator. He'd most likely tricked his father out of the throne not won it by force. So what did the throne hold that he wanted so badly?

Dinner arrived at her door just as her stomach started to growl. She'd been pacing her room, picking up statuettes and pondering paintings. She wanted to explore more of the palace but was afraid of getting lost. She'd always had a horrible sense of direction, ending up turned around at the university more than once. Asgard's palace was considerably larger than the buildings she'd attended her classes in.

The knock on her door set her heart racing for a moment, but she realized someone like the Enchantress wouldn't knock. Without Loki at her side, she realized just how inept she would be at protecting herself. Learning how to wield a knife was one thing, honing her skills on perceiving illusions another, but keeping herself alive if the Enchantress tried to kill her? That was quite another, and the thought of it made her palms sweat.

She opened the door to let the servant in, and her mouth began to water as the scent of the food wafted in. The woman set a tray down on the table, pulling the domed top off to expose the menagerie of food. "Thank you," Kyra said, eyes scanning the food greedily.

The girl just ducked her head. "Is there anything else you require?" she asked.

"No." Kyra blinked, unsure of what more she could ask for. "Thank you." The girl turned and left as quickly as she could, and Kyra wondered if she'd said something wrong. She sat down at the table, pulling the platter toward her and marveling at the amount of food piled onto it. She had the feeling that any guest at the palace ate this well because she highly doubted Loki would have requested she be treated specially. It was nothing like she'd eaten before – an entire suckling pig which, in all honesty, grossed her out just a little, fresh greens piled with cherry tomatoes, toasted bread pieces, and sunflower seeds, bulging grapes, pomegranate halves, and ripe cherries, buttered bread that was still steaming, a small block of cheese, and a goblet of wine. She hardly knew where to start. Since she was alone, she felt no need for etiquette. She dug in with her fork, trying a little bit of everything and stuffing far too much in her mouth. Her last meal at home had consisted of stale cereal and some peanut M&Ms she'd gotten from the vending machine at school. She tried the wine and found it fruity and heady. She'd have to be careful about that, she realized. She took another sip. Or maybe it didn't matter. She had nowhere to be, and no one was going to bother her here. Not tonight.

She ate until she couldn't eat another bite, pushing the tray aside. She took the goblet of wine and curled up in one of the chairs, snagging a book off the shelf and balancing it open on her knee. It was a fairy tale, she realized after the first couple of pages. It was hard to tell as everything in Asgard and the other fantastical realms Sif had mentioned sounded like a fairy tale to Kyra. The story was about a king who had a daughter who rode to battle at his side. Together, they were unstoppable, taking down any enemy that dared stand against them. One day the daughter became jealous of her father's throne. She started plotting his demise, making allies in dark places, growing more and more powerful by taking the souls of those who opposed her.

Her father's advisors noticed something was off, but the king refused to believe his daughter was plotting against him. When the daughter was finally strong enough to oppose her father, she entered his palace and overcame his guards, her army too much for the king's soldiers to bring down. The soulless beings the king's daughter had once called her enemies had become her army. The king was all but beaten, lying beneath his throne as his guards' blood pooled around him. He saw the truth then – that his daughter had been plotting against him for many long years. He saw a lust for power, a greed for his throne and desire for his life that he did not recognize. The daughter thought that her victory was assured, but the king had one more bit of his strength left to use. With it, he drove his maddened daughter back and then cast her into the underworld so that she could rule over a throne of the dead. He cast her army down as well until her evil had been wiped from the realm.

Kyra set the book aside. Her head was stirring with the effects of the wine, and she found she could no longer focus on the words in the book. She tried to set her wine goblet on the side table, but her fingers didn't reach far enough. The goblet fell to the floor, spilling wine over the stone floors as it rolled. Kyra's vision swam. She'd only had one goblet. How potent was Asgardian wine? _It's made for the gods, you dolt_ , she told herself sleepily. Her mind was a muddle, but she somehow dragged herself to the bed, kicking off her shoes and pulling the plush covers over her.

That night she dreamt the Enchantress had an army of the dead. They marched on Asgard, and Kyra stood alone to face them. Her hand reached for her knife, but she found it missing. She could see the Enchantress for what she really was – or could she? Suddenly a giant snake reeled up from where Enchantress had once stood. It slithered toward Kyra, forked tongue flicking out like a flying arrow. Kyra raised her hands as if she could stop the Enchantress with pure determination. In the distance she saw Loki standing watching her with distant green eyes. "Help me!" she called out to him, but he vanished, in his place an old king lying in a pool of blood, dead guards surrounding him. Something scaly slithered around Kyra, squeezing her tightly until the air was forced from her lungs. She tried to scream, but she had no more breath.

Kyra woke with a start, sweat soaking her forehead. Her head reeled, and she fell back against the pillows. She had the worst hangover of her life. Her first, to be honest, but definitely the worst. She didn't think there was any alcohol on Earth that could best Asgard's brews. She cursed the wine, cursed herself for drinking it, and cursed Loki for not warning her. He'd probably requested the girl bring it. What time was it? Kyra fumbled with her phone, but it was dead. The sun had risen though, and Kyra was supposed to be at the training field _at_ sunrise. She moaned, dragging herself from the bed. Her clothes were wrinkled, but she tossed her hair back in a messy bun and headed to the training field without bothering to change.

She wasn't sure if there would be consequences for her late arrival, didn't know if she cared, but her head hurt too much for an argument with Loki. She tried to hurry, but her head pounded with every step she took. When she reached the edge of the training field, she realized she'd forgotten one very important implement for practice: her knife.

"You're late." Of course he'd noticed. Loki leaned casually against one of the training dummies. She could see the hazy outline of the guard he was disguised as.

"I am aware," Kyra replied coolly.

Loki raised an eyebrow. "And what compelling excuse do you have for me?"

"I slept in."

He narrowed his eyes. "You slept in?"

Kyra didn't want to mention the wine or how affected she'd been by it. She lifted her head. "Yes."

"I'm not entirely convinced you're taking this seriously," Loki said, pushing off from the straw dummy and approaching her. Kyra refused to be intimidated, but she had to admit the look in his eyes was not comforting. "It is your life we're talking about here or are you fine with the Enchantress coming to slit your throat in the middle of the night?"

Kyra gave an involuntary shudder, remembering her dream from the night before. "On the contrary," she told him, "I take my life very seriously. I think you might be thinking of yourself because it's _your_ life you want me to protect."

Loki stopped before her, and she had to look up to meet his eyes. "You look terrible," he told her. "This is a complete waste of time."

"Then why don't you find someone better suited to protect you?" Kyra gritted out, refusing to back away or break eye contact.

"Because," Loki growled, "there is no one else. You don't think I wouldn't find someone who could actually protect themselves, someone other than some weak mortal, if I could? Seers are incredibly rare. I can't just summon a new one to my court."

"So you're admitting you need me?" Kyra let a silky smile stretch her lips. He studied her for a moment.

"Let's not put up any pretenses. I'm using you. You know it. I know it. You're a means to an end." He shook his head. "I can smell Asgardian wine on your breath." A cruel smile twisted his face. "It's quite potent for mortals. I'm surprised you're still standing."

"You sent it to my room, didn't you?" she asked, scowling at him.

Loki shrugged. "You drank it." Before she knew what he was doing, Loki grabbed for her, his hands vices on her wrists as he swung her around so that her back was to his chest and his arm was across her throat. "And you forgot your knife." His breath tickled her ear as she struggled to get loose. She couldn't break his grasp though. "You're just as weak as the other mortals I've met," he told her.

"Then I hope you sleep with a knife under your pillow," she told him, "because I might not stop the Enchantress from cutting your throat in your sleep."

"Careful," Loki's voice was low in her ear, "as king, I could have you sent to the dungeons for such threats." He let her go, and Kyra tripped forward at the sudden absence of body behind her. She caught herself, staggering a little.

"Come find me when you're serious about learning to fight," he told her. "Until then, I'd rather you be somewhere else."

Kyra opened her mouth to spit something venomous at him, but nothing came out. Instead, she whirled on her heels and stalked away from Loki, cursing him under her breath. She cursed Asgardian wine too for good measure. As she entered the palace, she ran into someone, too distracted by her irritation to notice where she was going.

"Sorry. Oh!" It was Lady Sif, and Kyra felt a surge of relief at seeing her.

"I was just coming to see how you were settling in," Sif said, taking in Kyra's disheveled appearance and clenched fists.

"I'd be doing better if I didn't have to put up with that arrogant, prickly, deceitful–" She paused. She'd been about to say 'king,' but Sif couldn't know about Loki. "Guard," she amended. "The king has assigned me to train with him, but he's…difficult."

A smile tugged Sif's lips. "Somehow I think you are more than a match for a guard."

Kyra shook her head. "I might have met my match." She hated to admit it, but Loki was excellent at rubbing her the wrong way. She had known him for such a short while and somehow he'd already learned all the right buttons to press to drive her mad.

"Maybe what you need is a distraction," Sif said, her eyes lighting. "I was also coming to ask if you'd like to visit one of the other realms with me and the Warriors Three."

"Really?" Kyra asked. Sif nodded. "Definitely!"

"There's been a particularly nasty bilgesnipe killing livestock in Vanaheim. Hogun asked us to come help him hunt it down."

There was that word again. "What on _earth_ is a bilgesnipe?" she asked. She was getting an image in her head of some sort of weird, bulging creature.

"They are the most horrendous of beasts," Sif told her. "They are quite large with scales and antlers. They have very sharp teeth and claws as well as a spiked tail."

"They sound lovely. Are they difficult to kill?" Kyra asked wondering just what she was signing up for.

"Not against the Warriors Three and myself," Sif answered with a smile. "They make for great sport."

"As long as I don't have to actually try to kill it, I'd love to watch from a safe distance," Kyra said. In truth, hunting down a bilgesnipe sounded much more preferable than another training session with Loki. "What do we leave?"

"Now, if you're ready," Sif told her.

"I'm ready." Kyra wished she had her knife, but she didn't want to traipse up to her room to get it. Perhaps Sif had one she could borrow. Not that she planned on using it.

Sif had brought her horse, and Kyra climbed up behind her. The route to the Bifrost was becoming familiar, and she found she was less frightened of riding over the rainbow bridge as she had been last time. She was eager to see more of the nine realms even if it did involve hunting down monsters. Fandral and Volstagg were already waiting, and Fandral smiled as Kyra slid down from the horse.

"How fortunate we are to have not one but _two_ lovely ladies joining us today," he said with a flourished sort of bow.

"Behave," Sif warned him with a smile.

"It's an honor to see you again, Lady Kyra," Volstagg said, taking Kyra's hand in his giant one and giving her a warm smile.

"Are you ready to go hunt a bilgesnipe?" Fandral asked the group. They headed into the round building, and Kyra remembered Loki's words about banishing Heimdall. In his place stood a bulky man with a shaved head and thick tattoos that ran down the back of his head. He wore thick armor and had unfriendly eyes at odds with Heimdall's golden ones.

"Hello, Skurge," Fandral said, his tone decidedly less friendly. "It's off to Vanaheim for us."

"Very well." The new guardian of the Bifrost opened a portal for them, and they passed through. Kyra was used to it now and, when her feet found solid ground again, she felt much less dizzy. They'd landed in a forested area, and Kyra could see a settlement down below.

"Hogun will meet us in his village," Sif said. They took a step forward but paused a moment later as a horrific roar shook the ground.

"Dare I ask what that was?" Kyra asked, looking around her.

"That would be the bilgesnipe," Volstagg said. "And it sounds like he's quite angry."


	9. Eight: The Legend of the Three Brothers

**Author's Note:** So I'm reading Norse Mythology by Neil Gaiman right now and was really inspired to include some of the legends in my fic. I've definitely changed it up a bit to fit with where I wanted it to go in this story, but I've taken some elements from the mythology. That book is a fantastic read. I highly recommend it. Some of those stories are crazy, but I love them. Loki has some really weird children... I mean, if you want a weird story, look at the story of Sleipnir. It's...unexpected. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

* * *

 **Eight – The Legend of the Three Brothers**

Loki watched the girl stalk away from him, her steps a little wobbly. He hadn't really intended to make her so angry, but he couldn't deny that it was amusing to see how long it took her to explode. If he was being completely honest, life in Asgard – now that Thor had procured peace through defeating the dark elves – was a touch boring. Perhaps he was siphoning off some of his boredom by pushing the mortal girl to her limits. It didn't take much, he'd found, but he supposed if he wanted to use her abilities he'd do better not to push her too far. She'd come around in the end. She had a curious light to her eyes that told him she wouldn't be easily swayed from learning more about her ability. Perhaps she was afraid of his threats to send her to the dungeons, but he had a feeling she'd be back out of sure determination to prove him wrong.

Now that she'd run off, his morning's entertainment was gone, and he had the rest of his afternoon looming before him with nothing to entertain him save the drivel of Asgard's courtiers and the silence of the throne room. As it happened, Odin's days had consisted of very little that interested Loki. He heard petitions from the people of Asgard twice a week, oversaw training of the guards, held feasts for no particular reason, and generally hovered around the palace doing nothing useful in Loki's opinion. Loki spent time in Odin's private library a good portion of the day where he could lock himself in and be himself. He'd always loved reading though in recent years he hadn't spent much time around books. He'd been preoccupied for all the good it had done him on Midgard. Now he made his way to the library, finding himself with nothing to do. He wondered if the girl had locked herself away in her room. It sounded like something a human girl would do. She would sulk and get over it and be back tomorrow – hopefully no longer inebriated from the Asgardian wine she'd consumed – and ready to continue her lessons. He hadn't sent the wine up to her room, but he _had_ told the kitchen staff to treat his guest well. He supposed he could have warned her not to drink the wine. Then again, she probably would have drunk it out of spite.

As he shut the library door behind him, locking it fast, he shed the guise of Odin that he'd replaced the guard with and snatched a thin book off the table before settling into one of the comfiest chairs. It was not a book you could find in Asgard; in fact, he'd stolen it from the girl's cell when she'd first come to Asgard, curious about what Midgardians read. _Twelfth Night_ the title read. It was a play written by someone who seemed to be renowned on Earth. He thumbed to his place, the well-worn pages crinkling under his fingers. There were notations in the margins, random lines underlined and marked in yellow, and the cover was creased. Obviously well read. He wondered why the mortal liked this book so much. It was about a woman shipwrecked and washed ashore in a strange land. In order to find work, she disguised herself as a man and went to work for a duke. The woman, Viola, began to fall for the duke, but the duke was enamored with another woman and sent Viola (in the guise of a man) to deliver his love letters to the woman. In the process, Olivia, the duke's love interest, falls for Viola's alter ego. He hadn't reached the ending yet, but somehow found himself unable to stop reading. The story was, admittedly, amusing though he found the duke to be a little _too_ perfect (perhaps a little too like Thor for his liking). Was that all a girl looked for in a man? Physical prowess and a chiseled jaw?

Of course, in the end, everyone ended up happily together. Viola married perfect Duke Orsino while Olivia marries Viola's brother, Sebastian. Why was it Midgardians thought everything could be solved with love? Then again, Thor had gone back to Midgard for a mortal woman. Such weakness. Human life was fleeting where gods were concerned. What was the point?

He set the book aside. He'd give it back to the girl eventually. Maybe.

Loki stretched his arms above his head, working out the kinks in his shoulders. The play had gotten him thinking – what if he wrote his own play? It would go something like this: two brothers go off to fight the evil dark elves. The eldest brother bravely fights only to be overcome. In a moment of ultimate sacrifice, the younger brother steps in and vanquishes his brother's enemy, saving his life. But, alas, the younger brother is struck down in his moment of triumph. He dies a hero's death, and his father realizes how wrong he was all those years he failed to see his younger son's potential. Yes, he liked where that was going. There would have to be a statue, of course, erected in honor of the younger brother so he would be remembered for the hero he was.

He took on Odin's guise once more and went off to find the bard who sometimes performed at Odin's feasts. He could get started on the script right away. Loki smiled to himself. He might as well have a little fun as king, find a way for people to worship him even if they thought he was dead.

"My king." Loki paused as someone called out to him. He felt a stab of frustration, but plastered a patient look on Odin's face and turned to the guard.

"What is it?" he asked, gripping Odin's scepter a little too tightly.

"There are reports of a disturbance at the eastern side of the city." He cleared his throat. "Reports vary."

"Well?" Loki inquired when the guard didn't continue on. "What is it?"

"Arguments have broken out on the streets. People are fighting. The soldiers too. Everyone seems to be under…well, under some sort of spell." He shuffled his feet looking uncomfortable.

Loki sighed inwardly. It sounded like something he might have done to aggravate his father in the past. "Very well. I will look into it. In the mean time, keep people away from that part of the city."

"Yes, my king." The guard bowed and hurried off. Loki made for the stables, bypassing the stall that held Odin's eight-legged horse, Sleipnir. The grey stallion was especially leery of Loki, always had been, and wouldn't let him anywhere near even when Loki was in Odin's guise. Odin's two crows, Huginn and Muninn seemed suspicious of him too. Usually they were not far from Odin's side, often perching on his shoulders, but since Loki had banished his father, they'd kept their distance. Loki thought this best. He'd always been put off by the intelligent look in their beady eyes. Loki opted for his own horse, a sleek, black mare named Asta. She nickered a greeting, and he wondered if she could see straight through his illusion down to his core. It was a comfort, really, because he had no fear of her telling anyone who he was. He stroked her nose for a minute, allowing himself a moment of weakness. It felt good to be seen for who he really was even if it was just by a horse.

Asta's hooves clattered over the cobblestones as he rode off toward the eastern side of the city. Here there were markets and shop fronts that the wealthy often attended while the working people sold their crops and goods. As children, he and Thor had often visited the market stalls. Loki had enchanted fruit to make it look like frogs or other slimy creatures much to the consternation of his more serious brother. He had fond memories of those times, he realized, at least until Thor grew old enough to pay more attention to the fair maidens selling the goods and less attention to his brother. Their last journey there wasn't the greatest memory, heavily marred by the mass quantities of Asgardian mead Loki had consumed. Usually that was Thor's favorite activity, but occasionally Loki had indulged when he'd wanted to dull his senses and drown out his brother's heroic tales he used to woo the maidens. He'd been listening to the story of how Thor had first lifted Mjolnir for the umpteenth time, swilling his sixth mug of mead when he had a fantastic thought. What if Thor's beloved hammer went missing? Vanished. Kaput. Nowhere to be seen. Obviously he couldn't lift the hammer. (He'd given up on thinking he could be the favored son of Asgard decades ago.) But he could make the hammer disappear. Thor would be furious, but the look on his face would be worth it.

The hammer sat on the bar counter in full sight. Loki waited for the perfect opportunity as his brother chugged down another mug of ale. "Another!" he shouted, slamming the tankard down on the counter. The two maidens Thor had been regaling with his story twittered with laughter. The barkeeper looked less amused, refilling Thor's tankard silently. "Leave it," Thor requested, nodding to the pitcher of ale. The barkeeper set it down on the counter directly next to Mjolnir. Thor turned away, and Loki took his chance. He cast an illusion over the hammer so that it appeared to be a vase of wilting flowers. No one noticed, and Loki's lip curved up in a grin.

"The handle is perfectly balanced," Thor was saying. "Perfect for wielding with one hand and throwing."

"The handle's rather short," Loki said. Thor frowned, but ignored the comment.

"Yes, why is it so short?" one of the maidens asked. "It's not like a battle hammer that the dwarves wield."

Thor chuckled. "Mjolnir," he said, "has no equal. Dwarf hammers would be of no use against it."

"Tell the story of how it was forged," Loki prompted his brother. "Tell them how the handle was supposed to be longer, but the dwarves who forged it messed it up."

"You don't want to hear that one," Thor said, giving his brother a grimace that indicated he was thinking about pummeling him. "It's just a false story made up by those who are jealous they can't wield it."

Loki leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. "I'll tell it if you won't."

"Please, Thor," one of the girls begged him. Thor shot Loki another annoyed look in Loki's direction before turning back to the girls. He hadn't noticed Mjolnir's disappearance yet.

"All right," he conceded. "It's utter nonsense though. At least the part about the handle. Long ago, when Asgard was still young and the people of Midgard still worshipped the gods, a dying star fell from the sky. A large chunk of the star fell to Asgard. Odin saw the dying star and decided to forge something from it. He called in three dwarven brothers and issued a challenge: whoever could forge the finest weapon from the star would receive riches from the vaults of Asgard – enough to make them as rich as kings. The three brothers took the challenge. They all wanted the riches and so, as they got to work, they tried to sabotage the others' creations. The first decided to make a sword fit for the gods, broad and long and with the ability to control passage through the Bifrost. The second decided on a spear that would not only control passage through the nine dimensions but also have the ability to send out blasts of energy during battle and give the user power over the mighty Destroyer armor. The third brother, not to be outdone by the other two decided to forge a mighty hammer, unbreakable in battle and with the ability to choose its master. Only its master would be able to lift it. It would also come when summoned and give its user the ability to fly across long distances.

"The dwarves began their work, each believing their own weapon to be the best. They worked day and night but, when the brothers came close to finishing their weapons, they decided it was time to sabotage the others. The first brother was busy hammering down the metal to forge his sword when the second brother entered and set fire to the workshop. The first brother saw the flames but could not stop hammering the metal in case it cooled. Flames lapped around him, but he continued to hammer until the blade gleamed in perfection. The added flames had actually helped shape it and, as he wiped the sweat from his brow, he put out all the flames and let the metal cool.

"The second brother returned to his workshop, dismayed that his plan had not worked. In the mean time, the third brother had paid the second brother a visit. He'd seen his work on the spear but when he tried to break it, he found the metal was too strong and broke many weapons trying to dent it. He gave up when he heard the second brother returning and went back to his forge where his own creation lay. He had not yet finished the hammer, but now he worked harder after having seen his brother's creation. Now, the other two brothers came to see what the third had created. They saw the hammer, and they were jealous of the weapon their brother had forged. They knew that, in its finished state, the gods would name it the finest of the weapons. They decided to work together to sabotage the third brother and thought up a plan.

"They entered the third brother's forge and greeted him, admiring his work. 'What a fine weapon you've forged,' said the first. 'It looks strong enough to crush the skull of a Frost Giant and heavy enough that even the mightiest of weapons could not shatter it.' 'It's a shame the king will not like it,' the second brother said. 'Oh yes,' said the first, 'such a shame after all the work you've put into it.' He motioned to the plans the third brother had drawn out. 'A child cannot wield such a large weapon.' He indicated the long handle the brother had planned to forge for the hammer. 'What do you mean?' the third brother asked. 'Well, the king wants a weapon for his first-born son. A child can hardly wield a hammer taller than he. No, the king will not like this weapon, brother.'

"The third brother thought long and hard about what his brothers had told him. 'Your weapons will be no better suited for a child,' he finally said. 'They are weapons for men, not a child.' 'Alas, that is why we came to warn you, brother,' they said. 'Ours are already beyond hope, but you can still change your design. It seems only fair that one of us gets the treasure. Can you imagine the shame on our family if we all lost?' The third brother didn't want to take a chance and forge the longer handle he'd been planning so, after a long night of thinking, he decided to forge a shorter handle fitted for a child. He enchanted the metal so that it would not be so heavy that a child could not wield it and stepped back to admire his work. The hammer was a masterpiece, the best weapon he'd ever forged. He knew the king would love it, and that he would win the gold.

"The next day the dwarves presented their weapons to the king. The first brother brought forward his blade forged from the dying star. Its name was Hofund, and it glinted with starlight and was taller than his stature, truly a blade fit for a god. The second brother held forth the spear which was just as magnificent as the sword. Gungnir it was named, and it thrummed with the energy of the dying star. The third brother stepped forward and held out the hammer. It was small in comparison, no less of a masterpiece, but somehow diminished with its short handle. Odin came forward to inspect each weapon, holding them and checking their balance. 'These are truly magnificent weapons,' he said. 'The sword will go to Heimdall, guardian of the Bifrost so that he may control and protect it. The spear I will keep as a symbol of my strength and as a weapon to have by my side during battle.' He paused at the hammer, and the third dwarf deflated, realizing he'd been tricked by his brothers. 'Does this weapon have a name?' Odin asked the third brother who shook his head. 'Then it will be called Mjolnir, and it will rest in my treasure chamber until someone worthy of wielding it steps forward for this is the greatest of the weapons, I can see. It is a weapon obedient to its master, a weapon that can only be wielded by one worthy enough to wield it.'

"The other two dwarves stared on in surprise as the third brother was rewarded with riches beyond his wildest dreams. They were given gold too, but nothing like the third brother. Despite their sabotage and lies, the third brother had still forged the finest weapon. And that is the story of why Mjolnir's handle is… _shorter_ than average," Thor finished his story, grabbing the pitcher of ale and draining it. He set it back down and reached for Mjolnir. His hands grasped thin air. "What trickery?" he shouted, standing up so quickly his chair fell to the floor with a clatter. Everyone in the tavern grew quiet, and the barman edged away from the fuming prince.

"Who has stolen my hammer?"

"But I thought only you could wield it," one of the maidens said.

"That is true," he said, turning on Loki. "Loki, what did you do with my hammer?"

Loki put on his most innocent of faces. "Me, brother? Why ever do you think I did something with it? You know I can't lift it." He said the last words bitterly.

"You did _something_ ," Thor insisted, scanning the bar.

"I can assure you I did not move your hammer," Loki told him truthfully.

Thor stared at him for a long minute, and Loki tried hard not to laugh at the dumbfounded look on his face. He was too easy sometimes.

"Maybe the handle is too short that you just can't see it right now," Loki suggested. "Maybe it's hiding behind something." He motioned to the pitcher and made the hammer reappear.

Thor blinked before shoving the pitcher aside and grabbing the reappeared hammer. He swung it experimentally as if Loki had replaced it with a fake.

"I think you've had enough ale for today," Loki told him. Thor glared at him for another moment before huffing.

"Very well, brother, we will return to the palace."

Loki smiled at the memory. That was back when he and Thor got along for the most part. True, there was always some competition between brothers, but that was before Loki had known he was adopted, back when he thought Thor was his blood brother. Now things were different…difficult. He didn't know if he wished he could go back or not. Of course before Thor was always the favored son, always destined for the throne even if Odin had raised them to believe either one would have that chance.

The sound of shouts in the distance brought Loki back to reality, and he swatted the thoughts aside like an annoying fly. He brought Asta to a walk as they entered the market square. As the guard had described, people were at each other's throats, arguing and shoving and even fighting with their fists in some instances.

"Enough!" Loki-Odin shouted. The square came to a shuddering halt. Everyone looked up at him. "What is the meaning of this?" he asked.

"This man stole from me!" a woman spoke up.

"I did not! _She_ stole from _me_!"

"He pushed me."

"She's lying!"

The tirades went on until Loki felt pressure building behind his eyes. "STOP!" he shouted. "This is unacceptable behavior." He felt around the square with his mind, sensing for any illusions that might be present. He could sense magic just as well as he could use it – well, perhaps not just as well. Now, as he felt around the square, he felt a tug of magic. He reached out and shattered the illusion. The people blinked.

"What happened?" one of them asked. "Why was I about to punch you?" he asked his neighbor.

"You've all been tricked," Loki said. "An illusion cast by the Enchantress Amora."

Muttering went up around him. "What are you going to do about her?"

"Is she going to try this again?"

"How did she get past Asgard's defenses?"

"Enough!" Loki-Odin shouted again. "Guards, get this in order. I will deal with the Enchantress." She was undermining him, and Loki did not like that. He turned Asta and sent her galloping back to the palace. The people had been a distraction he now realized. Amora could be in the palace already. She could have slit the mortal's throat and disappeared. Loki pushed Asta harder, heart beating out a quick tempo. Why did he suddenly care whether or not the girl was dead? It's not like he really cared about her life, but somehow the thought of her lying, throat slit, in her bed made him feel a nauseating fear.

He left Asta at the palace doors, barking at the guards to tend to her before pushing into the throne room. There were no guards inside which was unheard of. His eyes went to the throne, and he stopped short. Amora sat there, dressed in green. Her long, black hair twisted around her shoulders like writhing snakes, and her acid green eyes bore into his.

"Hello, Odin," she said. "So glad you could make it."


	10. Nine: Bilgesnipe Hunting

**Author's Note:** Sorry it's been awhile! Work has once again take over my life, so I haven't had much time to write lately, but I should have more free time soon. Thanks so much for the follows, favorites, and reviews!

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 **Nine – Bilgesnipe Hunting**

Kyra was beginning to regret ever agreeing to go along on the hunt. She knew she had nothing to fear with Sif and the Warriors Three. It's not like they expected her to take up a sword and kill the beast herself. But those roars were fairly good motivation to turn around and shout at Skurge to open the Bifrost again. Kyra took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down.

"That came from the south," Volstagg said, pointing toward a patch of trees downhill.

"Not far from the village," Hogun added.

Kyra thought she could see the trees trembling below as something large and powerful forged its way through the woods. "Why don't I take you to the village, and we'll go after it?" Sif told Kyra. "There's no need for you to follow us. It would only put you in danger. Take time to see a little of Vanaheim."

"I'd rather not get too close to that thing," Kyra agreed.

"Come. I'll walk you down there while the others close in on the beast," Sif offered.

"That's okay. I can see the village from here," Kyra told her. She didn't want to keep Sif from the hunt. "You go on."

"Are you sure?" Sif hesitated though Kyra could tell she was eager to hunt the bilgesnipe.

"I am. I'll be fine," Kyra tried to assure her.

"Take this. Just to be safe," Sif said, pressing a long dagger into Kyra's hand. She ran off to join the others, and Kyra headed downhill, her boots crunching on fallen leaves. Everything was still and silent here, and Kyra felt herself relaxing for the first time since she'd woken up feeling completely hung-over. It was nice to get away from Asgard if only for a while, away from Loki and his tricks. Asgard was beautiful in its otherworldly way, but Vanaheim was peaceful with something wild and untamed about it. In Asgard there was so much to explore, the city spanning out as far as the eye could see, but here she felt less of an urgency to explore and more of a desire to take her time walking through the woods down to the village below. She found herself forgetting Loki for a time as her mind cleared. She felt completely sober now and vowed again never to touch Asgardian drinks of any kind save water.

She heard a distant roar along with an answering one that could be no one else but Volstagg and hurried her steps. There were people down in the village, peering into the surrounding forest with looks of caution on their faces. They turned to eye Kyra suspiciously. "Who are you?" a woman asked. Dark braids ran down her back, a contrast to her pale skin. Dark blue eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"I'm Kyra. I…I'm friends with Lady Sif," she said, unsure of how the people would react to a Midgardian.

"Lady Sif is here?" the woman asked. The villagers murmured excitedly.

"Yes, along with the Warriors Three," Kyra told them. "They're hunting the beast."

"You do not join them?" the woman questioned, and Kyra felt her cheeks heat.

"No. I'm not a warrior."

"You have a knife," the woman pointed out.

Kyra smiled wryly, flexing her grip on the knife. It had good balance, she noted, and fit nicely in her hand, but she missed the familiar weight of Loki's knife. Very grudgingly. "I'm still in training," she confessed. "I didn't come here to hunt."

"Then why did you come here?" Kyra noticed the woman was dressed in armor, ready for battle should it come to her village. A short sword hung at her side. The other villagers looked less sure of themselves though some were holding swords and spears. They huddled toward the center of the village while the woman was standing apart, perhaps the village leader.

 _Why does it matter?_ Kyra wanted to ask. The woman was sizing her up, probably trying to figure out if Kyra was going to be a help or a nuisance. Well, Kyra certainly didn't need help feeling like she didn't fit in. At least back on Earth people ignored her for the most part. Here she stood out. The people of Asgard and Vanaheim looked just as human as she did, but somehow she still stood out like a tourist. Was that all she was? All she'd ever be?

"I just needed to get away from Asgard for awhile," she heard herself say.

"More like someone." The woman gave her a knowing smile. "Men are more trouble than they're worth."

Kyra stared at her in horror. "Oh, no. It's nothing like that. Definitely nothing like that." She paused, considering. "Well, maybe, but it's still not like that. He's just…irritating beyond measure." She paused, realizing she wasn't doing a good job of pushing him out of her mind. "And I wanted to see Vanaheim," she added lamely.

"Well, welcome," the woman said wryly as another roar shook the trees. "My name is Gunda. I'm leader of this village. You're not from Asgard, are you?"

"Is it that obvious?" Kyra was dressed like an Asgardian, but she supposed anyone with eyes could see straight through her. For one, Asgardians held themselves tall and proud where Kyra was more prone to slouching and crossing her arms protectively.

The woman laughed. "You're definitely from off-world though I can't place your accent."

"Earth. Midgard. I'm American."

"An earthling? Well, that is unusual. How did you come to be here?" the woman asked.

"It's a very long story," Kyra said, conscious of the villagers standing a few paces away. Gunda's lips quirked up in amusement.

"You're wary. Good." Gunda flexed her fingers on the hilt of her short sword. Another roar went up, this time one of pain. "Sounds like Lady Sif and the Warriors Three have done the job. I would have killed it myself, but I already lost a dozen men in an ambush."

"Do bilgesnipe usually attack like this?" Kyra asked, the strange name sticking on her tongue.

"If they're hungry enough. This one was after our sheep and cattle. Usually they only attack if provoked," Gunda explained.

"I guess that's some small comfort," Kyra said, beginning to relax a little. Sif would be back soon, and maybe Kyra could get a tour of the village and see a little of Vanaheim. She wondered how big this world was compared to Earth and Asgard. She was about to ask when a rumbling growl shook the ground beneath her. The villagers cried out in fright, and Gunda's eyes widened.

"Odin's beard," she muttered. "There's more than one of them." She slowly drew her short sword, and Kyra felt herself freeze. It was like before, back at the University of Greenwich when the Dark Elves had been attacking. Neither fight nor flight, simply freezing in fear. She forced herself to slowly turn, her knuckles white as they clenched the knife. Her heart was pounding, and she found herself hoping for a moment that this was all some crazy hallucination after all. The beast standing before her was anything but a hallucination.

It smelled of rotting flesh, its breath hot. It was roughly the size of a rhinoceros with scaly grey skin and a monstrous head like a mutated Rottweiler. Antlers stuck out of the head, and a spiked tail wrapped around its body, flicking back and forth. The claws and fangs were longer than Kyra's knife. It was eyeing her, which made sense since she was directly in its path.

"Kyra, you need to move," Gunda said quietly.

"You can't fight it alone." The words were completely absurd once spoken. What exactly was Kyra going to do to help? Perhaps while the beast feasted on her flesh, Gunda could take her chance and kill it. Kyra wasn't quite willing to make that sacrifice.

"I'm not alone." Some of the villagers stepped forward, brandishing their weapons. "Kyra, MOVE."

Kyra's feet regained movement not a second too soon. She lunged out of the way as the beast charged. She landed hard in the dirt, rolling over until she could see the fight, clutching her bruised elbow. Gunda had leapt out of the beast's way at the last minute, slicing her short sword down the length of its side. It roared in pain, claws digging into the ground as it tried to turn around and pursue the woman. The villagers let out battle cries and charged the beast, stabbing it with spears and pitchforks and swords. It growled in pain and irritation, swinging its antlered head so quickly that several villagers were caught. They went flying, and Kyra couldn't tell if they were dead or not.

The beast continued its rampage, and Kyra realized Gunda's skill and the villagers' bravery would not be enough. She got to her feet. The knife was useless. Even if she managed a good throw, it would probably bounce right off of the beast's hide. She didn't have Asgardian strength like Lady Sif.

A wooden house shattered under the impact of the bilgesnipe's tail, the thatched roof collapsing. It wasn't a good place for a fight. If only she could draw the beast away or distract it until Sif and the Warriors Three arrived. She could sense illusions, but what good was that if she couldn't create her own?

Kyra watched in horror as three more people were sent flying. Two did not get up again. Gunda lunged at the beast with a cry, managing to latch onto its back and stab her sword into the thick hide at its neck. It barely penetrated, and the beast threw itself around to dislodge her. Kyra shut her eyes and focused. She thought of Loki and his illusions, thought of his magic and the feel of it in the air. Her heartbeats were racing through her veins so quickly, she thought her pulse might burst free of her skin. She was trembling now from fear and concentration. She didn't know what she was doing, but some instinct drove her on. She opened her eyes.

Another Kyra stood across from her, and Kyra gaped. Her mirror image stared blankly back. Then she stepped in front of the beast. The bilgesnipe snapped its jaw, and Kyra's image took off down the road, away from the village. The beast followed, and Gunda chased after it, casting Kyra a curious look. Kyra's knees hit the ground. Her vision wavered. She saw Sif and the Warriors Three come barreling out of the forest, attacking the beast as Kyra's duplicate disappeared. The ground rose to meet her, and everything went black.

…

Kyra was walking down a long, familiar hall. Family pictures hung on either side, smiling Kyras with her mom and dad – blowing out candles on a birthday cake, throwing a pile of autumn leaves in the air, listening to her mom reading a Dr. Seuss book to her, helping her dad build a birdhouse. They were a nice family. A normal family. They didn't keep secrets. Kyra looked ahead. Then why was the door at the end of the hall always locked?

 _It's where Mommy and Daddy work_ was always the answer. _It's off limits_.

Her dad had driven somewhere this morning and wasn't back yet. Kyra could tell her mom was worried. She'd picked at her fingernails while Kyra had been coloring, and she only did that when she was worried. Then the phone had rung, and she'd sent Kyra up to her room. A hushed conversation had ensued, but Kyra couldn't make out the words from the base of the stairs.

She'd been headed for her room when she'd noticed something odd. The door at the end of the hall wasn't locked. It was open just a little, and light spilled out, welcoming, enticing. Kyra knew she shouldn't go in. It was the one rule in the house that mattered the most. Curiosity killed the cat, her mom always said, but Kyra was too young to understand idioms. Curiosity had her walking to the end of the hall, past the family pictures that looked down at her with scolding eyes. She put a small hand on the door and pushed.

…

The memory faded into pain, and Kyra was choked with it. She cried out, arching her back. It felt as if daggers were piercing her brain, behind her eyes, under her skin. She felt hands on her shoulders, holding her down. She heard a voice calling her name, familiar and yet unknown. Something warm pulsed through her, and the pain receded just enough that she stopped writhing.

"What have you done?" the voice asked, but she could not answer. Then, "What are you, Kyra Winters?"

She didn't know the answer to that anymore. She faded back into darkness, back to her memories, to that room at the end of the hall, to the door she never should have gone through.


	11. Ten: A Game of Illusions

**Author's Note:** I'm really determined to start updating more frequently! I know it's a pain to wait, and you guys are awesome for being patient with me! I just quit my second part-time job as I got hired on for a second position at the public library I work at and can support myself on that one job [hopefully]. I'm now a circulation clerk and a page! I'm very excited! SO I should have a lot more free time. No more 44 hour weeks with no days off.

Thank you thank you thank you for favorites, follows, and reviews!

* * *

 **Ten** **–** **A Game of Illusions**

"I don't recall inviting you to sit on my throne," Loki said to the Enchantress. The air hung tense between them, and Loki flexed his grip on his staff.

"Did you like my diversion?" she asked, uncrossing her legs and standing. Her fingers gripped the arms of the throne, nails clicking on the metal. "I've always loved the sound of people squabbling, letting out all those petty frustrations that etiquette dictates we keep tucked safely inside. It's all about illusions. What face we present to the public versus what we truly look like." Loki tensed at her words. Her green eyes were too penetrating, too knowing.

"You've never had any trouble showing the ugliness inside of you," Loki said. It was hard to pretend to be Odin when he had so many things to say as Loki. He took a deep breath and leveled his anger. "I'll ask you to leave once."

"Or what?" she asked silkily, releasing the throne from her grasp and sidling closer to him. She put one of her hands on his shoulder. "You'll send me to the dungeons?"

Loki slid away from her grip, trying to ignore the old familiarity of it. "What do you want, Enchantress?"

She pursed her lips, painted red, stark like blood against the paleness of her skin. "What do I want? Have I not already made myself clear? I want Asgard. I want the throne. Your days are already up, old man."

"You have no right to the throne. No right at all."

"But do you?" Amora's words hung in the air. Loki turned to face her, not at all liking the superior look in her green eyes.

"I don't have time for your petty games, Enchantress. My guards will escort you to the dungeons–"

"But I thought you liked games," Amora purred. "After all, you are the god of _mischief_."

Loki froze and he knew, even disguised as Odin, he couldn't hide the panic that flitted across his face. But how could Amora know? Had someone told her? But no one knew, no one except… "Did the girl tell you?" he asked. That was it. That had to be it. The mortal girl had betrayed him after all. In a fit of rage against him, she'd turned on him and betrayed his true identity to his enemy.

"The girl told me nothing," Amora said, voice hard as steel now that she had her truth. Loki cursed himself for confirming her words. "You think I don't know you, Loki? After all, we once knew each other quite well."

"That was a long time ago. You know nothing about me now." He had to know how she knew. If his illusion wasn't strong enough, if someone could see through it… Everything he'd achieved would be at risk.

"I know you took Odin to Midgard. I know you seized his throne. How, you're wondering. How could I know all this unless someone told me?" She smiled. "Why don't you drop the guise? It's not fooling me."

Loki shook his head. "How do you know?"

"I've been spying on Asgard longer than you know, Loki. And even you for all your cunning slip up from time to time. Even you want to feel your own skin and not look down to see your father's wrinkled hands. Don't worry, your secret is safe with me."

"Then what do you want?" Loki growled.

"I thought I'd been clear about that," Amora told him.

"You're not getting the throne," he spat, glaring daggers at her. He wished he currently had two eyes but refused to drop his Odin guise. "You have no right to it. _I_ do."

"Do you though? You're adopted after all. Shouldn't Thor be next in line?" She was playing with him, he knew. He tried not to let her get to him, but she'd always been good at getting under his skin.

"Thor has abandoned Asgard for Earth. And Odin had his turn. I'm taking my right to rule." He wasn't going to let anyone take that away from him. He'd been too careless shedding Odin's guise, assuming no one had been watching closely. Now his enemy knew, and his reign was at risk. There was one way to ensure Amora didn't reveal his true identity, and Loki tightened his grip on the staff. Amora seemed to sense what he was thinking.

She clucked her tongued disapprovingly. "Now, now. That won't do. Killing me will only ensure you lose the throne. You see, as we speak, the light elves believe their queen has come to pay homage to Odin. If she doesn't return, they will come to seek her. They will start a war to avenge their fallen queen."

"Queen? The light elves have a queen. If you expect me to believe they'd let you anywhere near their throne…" He stopped, putting the pieces together. "You've pulled the same illusion. Where's the real queen?"

Amora shrugged. "Somewhere safe. For the time being. I needed _some_ throne, so I thought, why not Alfheim?" She waved her hand in the air, heedless to the throne she'd stolen. Loki pointedly ignored the irony of it all. What he'd done was different. He _had_ a right to Asgard's throne. Amora had no claim to any throne, Asgardian or otherwise.

"I'll make a deal with you, Loki," Amora told him. "Visit me in Alfheim, and we can come to an arrangement. Bring that fascinating little human with you."

"Why _should_ I come? What's stopping me from spilling your little secret?" Loki glared at her. He didn't like people making threats, but he knew better than to underestimate Amora.

"Who would believe you? Especially when the light elves are convinced old king Odin is beginning to lose his mind. After the death of his wife…he just isn't the same."

Loki stiffened, and Amora's lips twisted up in a smile. She knew it felt like a knife twisting into his heart when she mentioned his mother. He kept his face carefully blank, but inside he raged. She was beating him at his own game.

"Two days. If I don't see you in Alfheim in two days, I'll tell everyone in Asgard what you did to your father."

Loki knew what she was doing – she wanted to make a deal on her terms. She wanted to be the one in power. And Loki didn't have much of a choice.

Amora turned on her heel. "See you in two days, Loki. I'm quite looking forward to meeting your little mortal pet officially." Her heeled boots clicked on the polished floor as she left, and Loki could do nothing but watch her go, frustration roiling inside. He did not like being outsmarted at his own game.

Voices outside the room startled him. He composed himself as the doors to the throne room opened and Sif and the Warriors Three entered. Volstagg was holding a body, Loki realized after he took in the scene. "Is that-"

"My king, forgive us. We allowed Kyra to come with us on our hunt – she was safe in the village – but there were two beasts," Sif began to explain.

"You did _what?_ " Was she _dead_? He couldn't tell from here. Her dark hair fell in a thick curtain, and her body was limp in Volstagg's arms.

"I thought she might like to see Vanaheim. There were two bilgesnipe. She…she tried to fight it off. We killed it in the end, but she overexerted herself."

Now Loki could see the girl's chest rising and falling. "Take her to her room," he commanded. The warriors and Sif nodded, looking ashamed. "Have you forgotten she is mortal?" he asked. "She is not strong like us. She is not meant to fight bilgesnipe."

"That was not our intention, my king," Fandral said.

"She cast an illusion," Sif put in. "I don't know how, but it saved the village. She used all her energy to do it though. She is not physically harmed, and yet she will not wake."

"Mortals cannot wield magic. You must be mistaken," Loki said sharply.

Sif and the Warriors Three shook their heads. "We all saw it."

"Be gone," Loki waved his hand at the warriors. "I will take her." He didn't want to look at their bashful faces. They had always been Thor's friends. They'd turned on him the second he'd tried to take his right to the throne several years ago. Volstagg passed over the girl, and Loki started toward her room. Sif lingered, but she didn't dare disobey her king.

"Please let me know when she wakes up!" she called after him.

Loki ignored her, but she sounded genuinely concerned. Clearly she cared about this mortal girl more than he'd realized. He didn't know why. She was rather prickly yet she was already making friends. He shed his guise the moment they were in her room, setting her on the bed.

"What have you gotten yourself into, Kyra?" he asked softly.

…

The inside of her parents' secret room was nothing like Kyra had imagined. She'd never really thought of why her parents didn't want her in the room. It was just off-limits and always had been. She couldn't make sense of the room beyond the forbidden door. It was filled with instruments and glass vials and bright liquids that reminded her of her watercolors. She knew she shouldn't be there, and her pulse leapt in her tiny wrists, but her eyes couldn't stop taking in her surroundings. She knew her mommy and daddy were scientists. It was a big word, but she had learned it in school. They studied the brain, they had told her. She knew a little about the brain. How it was what made you smart, how it rested inside her head, protected by her skull. She'd once asked her parents how they could study something inside your head, and they'd told her there were ways of scanning the brain with special equipment. Now as she walked further into the room, she saw something in a jar that looked very much like the pictures she'd seen of human brains. It was pink and coiled and looked sticky.

It frightened her, so she moved further into the room. There was a long, thin bed that stood higher than she could reach and big, round lights that must have been very bright when they were on. There was a big, shiny metal box that stretched up to the ceiling at the very end of the room. She walked toward it. It looked like a refrigerator. She wondered if this was where her parents kept all the desserts they didn't want her getting into. She reached forward and pulled on the handle.

…

"I need you to wake up." A voice interrupted Kyra's dream, and she became aware that she was laying on a bed, no longer a young child. For a moment she was disoriented, but then she realized she must be back in her room in Asgard. She remembered the bilgesnipe and then the illusion she'd cast. Her eyes sprang open.

"How did I do that?" she wondered aloud.

"That's what I was wondering." She looked over and saw Loki pacing across her room. He looked slightly unhinged, face pale, hair splayed out in unruly waves. "What were you thinking?" he asked, greenish eyes flitting to her.

"Clearly that I'd rather face a bilgesnipe than you." He winced at that.

"You were asleep for an entire day. You were very close to being killed," he told her as if she didn't already know that.

"Sorry?" She struggled to sit up. "Well, I wasn't. Why are you so mad? I didn't realize you cared so much."

"I don't," he said through clenched teeth.

"Then what has you so unhinged?" He didn't look himself, not that she could claim to know him well at all. The cool, calm demeanor was gone. The arrogant confidence nowhere to be seen. He looked almost nervous.

"While you were off on your grand adventure, the Enchantress decided to pay me a visit." He finally stopped pacing, turning to face her.

"You're still alive too, so what was she after this time?" Kyra asked. She tried to ignore the stir of fear in her stomach.

"She wants the throne of Asgard," Loki told her, eyes watching her, unreadable as they were intense. "She wants to meet with us tomorrow. Both of us." Kyra frowned at this. "And," Loki said, something like uncertainty flitting across his eyes, "she knows who I really am."


	12. Eleven: Dark Memories

**Eleven** **–** **Dark Memories**

Kyra stared at Loki, frowning at his words. "Well, that seems like a bit of a slip up," she finally said. He scowled in response. "Why on earth does she want to meet me? I did interrupt her attempt to assassinate you, after all. I wouldn't think she'd be eager to see me again." She watched Loki swallow down a response that was probably best kept to himself. He nervously twisted his hands, and Kyra didn't think he was aware that he was even doing it. She smiled, feeling the teensiest bit satisfied.

"She probably wants to finish what she started, kill us both where we're defenseless." She knew he was just blowing off steam. The Enchantress could have slit Kyra's throat in her sleep several times if she'd been lurking around the castle, but she hadn't.

"Hmm, well, considering I don't stand in the way of the throne, I can't really see why she'd be too concerned about me. I can't very well protect your identity now. That cat's out of the bag."

"You humans are exceedingly odd," Loki growled at her. "And verbose."

Kyra sat up in bed, crossing her arms and watching him. She still felt exhausted as if something had drained her of all her energy. She still didn't have answers, still didn't know how she'd cast an illusion when Loki had told her mortals could not wield magic. She wanted to ask, but she wasn't sure Loki had the answer. There was something wary about the way he looked at her now like he didn't quite know what to make of her. Now her purpose that Loki had set out for her was gone. The Enchantress knew Loki was disguised as Odin, so where did that leave Kyra? Loki hadn't brought that up yet though. And now Amora wanted to properly meet her. Loki had told her how Amora was currently disguised as the queen of the light elves (Kyra had gotten stuck on the fact that there were ELVES in one of the realms) and that she'd stuffed the real queen away somewhere. There was a lot to take in, but Kyra tried to keep up. Somehow in all of this she'd become something more than someone who could see through illusions. Somehow she and Loki were in this together though she didn't remember agreeing to do more than alert him to the Enchantress's presence. He didn't seem to know how long she'd known his secret, but Kyra was sure she hadn't seen the Enchantress since the feast when she'd first made her presence known.

"Well, if I'm so odd, then maybe I'll just stay here. I wouldn't want to upset the light elves with my mortal oddities."

This made Loki stop fidgeting. He took a step toward her. "Oh no, you're not getting out this easily. I need you to see through her illusions. Who knows what traps she'll set for me."

"So I'm your canary basically."

"My _what_?" He gave her an incredulous look.

"Miners used to use canaries in mines to check for toxic fumes. If the canary died, they knew there was danger."

Loki gave her a predatory smile. "Ah, then yes, you are my canary."

Kyra tipped her head to the side. "I think there's more to it, but I'll give you that for now." Her stomach gave a terrific rumble just them, and she realized how starving she was. "I'll need proper sustenance if you're dragging me to another dimension. Why don't you bring me something? But hold the wine."

"I am _not_ your servant. Why don't you get it yourself?" he threw at her, stalking toward the door.

"I'm feeling a little weak. I'm afraid I won't be able to come with you tomorrow in this state." She put a hand dramatically to her forehead. In all honesty, the thought of going into another realm (even one with elves) was a terrifying thought. Mainly because Amora was currently pretending to be the queen, so that could mean nothing good, but also because something had changed the second she'd cast that illusion. She felt the same. She didn't feel suddenly magical or all knowing. She was just the same Kyra Winters, trying to keep a hold on her nerves. She'd felt a panic attack creeping up on her the entire time she'd been talking to Loki. She'd tried to keep talking, keep herself calm but now, as he put a hand on the door, she felt the sudden urge to call him back. Something _had_ changed, and she wished he had answers for her.

"I'll send a servant up," was all Loki said. He slammed the door after him, and Kyra was left alone with her questions and her fears. She'd been asleep for an entire day. That...wasn't good. Even she knew that. Casting the illusion had taken something out of her. How had she done it? More importantly, why had she even tried? It was as if some part of her knew that she could. She'd been lucky. If her illusion hadn't worked, she would probably be chopped bilgesnipe feed right now. She thought she'd seen real relief in Loki's eyes when she had finally woken up prompting her to wonder how long he'd been waiting for her to wake. Perhaps she was just a tool to him, a safeguard, but he'd come to rely on her however selfish the reason. If he relied on her, then perhaps she had power over him after all. She thought of the Enchantress and shuddered. She didn't want power to misuse; she just wanted assurance she wasn't about to be thrown into the dungeons on a whim. She would never go as far as to say Loki _liked_ her. She was useful to him still, and she thought it might be a good idea to stay on his good side.

She was a little surprised when a tap came at her door. A servant entered at her call with a platter of food. It was the same girl from last time, and she didn't utter a word. Kyra was too tired to try to make conversation as the girl set the tray on the bedside table and hastily left the room. Kyra began to eat like there was no tomorrow, glad Loki was no longer in the room. She managed to polish off all the food on the tray without feeling more than a little uncomfortably stuffed. She was still exhausted but she was longing for a bath. She still had dust on her arms and smears of mud on her clothes from when she'd fallen. Setting aside the empty tray, she discarded her dirty clothes and stepped into the bathwater in the adjoining room.

Kyra felt the tension ease out of her stiff shoulders as she lay back in the pool-sized bathtub. There were vials of oils she could add, and their fragrance filled the air in a steamy cloud. She could finally forget the fowl breath of the beast and the shuddering growl that had wracked her bones. Now that she was back in Asgard, safely locked in her room, she felt residual fear coursing through her. It had been close. She could have died, and yet in the moment she'd somehow known she could save herself and the villagers. It didn't make sense. Unless...unless she'd cast an illusion before. She shook her head, droplets of water flying off her long hair. Unless it was another memory she'd kept tucked away so deeply she couldn't access it, she had never cast an illusion. She thought back to the dreams she'd been having. They were memories – had to be for their vividness. Were they trying to tell her something? Was there a part of her brain that could unlock the mysteries that plagued her? She couldn't very well ask her parents, and she doubted her foster parents would be open to discussing supernatural abilities. Had the medication repressed that part of her?

She kept expecting to have a panic attack but so far she hadn't felt more than a few of the symptoms of her anxiety. It certainly wasn't because her life had become less stressful – she wouldn't exactly call finding herself in another dimension stress-free. Perhaps it was only a matter of time. She was nervous about visiting Alfheim now that the initial excitement had worn off. Facing Amora again wasn't exactly on her bucket list, and she had a feeling Loki was only interested in looking out for himself. She was just a tool, and he'd cast her aside to save himself in an instant. She didn't like the bitterness she tasted in her mouth. It wasn't as if she _wanted_ Loki to like her. She didn't like him. She was fully aware that he was using her and, she supposed, in her own way she was using him too. They were survivors – they fought and clawed to come out on top in a world that didn't seek to do them any favors.

Kyra sighed, resting the back of her head against the stone wall of the bath. Loki was this dark storm cloud in her brain that she didn't want to think about. She closed her eyes and blew the storm cloud away. She must have dozed off because the next thing she knew she was back in Vanaheim walking through the village where she'd stood the day before to face the bilgesnipe. This time it was completely abandoned, the streets echoing hollowly with the wind. Kyra tried calling out to see if anyone answered, but only her voice called back to her. Gunda and her villagers were nowhere to be found. She reached for her knife and pulled it out, the metal a cold bite against her fingers. Something rumbled in the distance, and she knew it wasn't thunder. Two monsters awaited her as she turned. She felt a familiar fear coursing through her fingertips like an electrical current. The beasts' beady eyes were set on her, their growls vibrating through her bones like earthquakes. The smell of decaying flesh permeated the air like a rifled graveyard spilling exposed corpses. Kyra tried in vain to summon an illusion to distract the two bilgesnipes but nothing happened. She felt empty. Weak. Human. Loki was right; magic was unreachable for mortals. She could no more summon an illusion than she could defend herself with the small knife in her grip.

She turned to run but found her way blocked by a man as familiar as he was a stranger. She knew him and yet she couldn't say how. His face was disfigured, pieces of skin seared off to show the underlying muscles. One eye was white, black lines spreading out like tree roots. Chunks of hair were missing, the flesh burnt underneath. Kyra wanted to retch, but her dream self could only watch in horror as he stepped closer. She turned to flee and now she was back in the laboratory her parents kept a secret, reaching her small hand toward the handle on the metal box. Cold air rushed out to meet her as she pulled the door open.

Inside was not ice cream or candy as she'd first imagined. It was nothing her developing mind could ever have imagined. It was a nightmare, and nothing would be the same after.

Six-year-old Kyra stared up at the object that resided in the freezer box. It was a man. At six he'd been a monster with bits of flesh and hair missing. His eyes were closed, and he seemed to be sleeping. Kyra knew she shouldn't have been in the lab. She knew she shouldn't have seen this and yet she couldn't look away. She screamed when the man's eyes flashed open, one a shade of blue to match a cloudless sky, the other a milky, unseeing white.

…

Kyra awoke flailing. Water surged over her head, and she couldn't breathe. For a moment she forgot where she was, panic overcoming her. The man. Who was that man? He'd been locked away in her parents' lab, some monstrous experiment. Something out of a nightmare.

She was in Asgard. In the bath the size of a pool. She didn't know which way was up or down, and her lungs were screaming for air. Suddenly hands gripped her arms and pulled her up toward the surface. The second her head was above water, she started coughing, expelling the scented water from her lungs. She gripped the edge of the pool until she could breath again.

"Are you all right?" Lady Sif knelt at the edge of the pool, dark eyes lit up with concern. "I heard you had woken up and wanted to come check on you. No one answered when I knocked, but then I heard a scream. I came in and found you flailing underwater."

"I fell asleep," Kyra said, cheeks heating. She'd nearly drowned because of her nightmares.

Sif passed her a towel. "I'll wait in your room if you're all right," she said.

"Thank you." Kyra rested her chin on the edge of the pool for a moment before dragging herself out of the water and drying herself. A plush robe lay folded on the seat of a vanity, and she pulled it tightly around her, letting her damp hair fall in sodden clumps around her shoulders.

Sif had started a fire in her room, and Kyra took the chair closest to it, pulling her knees up under her.

"I'm glad you're all right," Sif told her, face still reflecting her worry. "I should never have suggested you come with us to Vanaheim. It was negligent of me."

"What happened wasn't your fault," Kyra told her. "You couldn't have known there were two bilgesnipes."

"Were you having a nightmare about them?" Sif asked, voice soft. Kyra could tell she blamed herself for what had happened.

"At first, but then it turned into a dream about my childhood. I think it might have been a memory actually. When I was six, my parents were murdered. I don't remember that night, just little bits and pieces leading up to it. I can remember before but not after. It's like someone reached into my brain and scooped out all the relevant pieces. The people who found me told me they'd been in an accident, but that wasn't true. I've been getting little pieces back here and there, filling in the gaps. There's just so much I don't know. I feel like my entire childhood was a lie. None of my foster families would tell me anything. I might have gone on believing I'd had a normal childhood if those men hadn't found me in my apartment."

"I'm sorry that happened to you, Kyra," Sif told her. "Losing the people we love is hard, but finding out someone else took their life…it's unfair."

"I'm just afraid that they weren't who I thought they were, that they were somehow the bad guys. What I saw in my memory…I think they might have hurt people."

"Sometimes when we do not have the whole truth, we must cherish the good truths we do hold. Unfinished memories can be deceiving."

Kyra nodded, but she couldn't get the image of the frozen man out of her mind. "I'm going to Alfheim tomorrow," she said, changing the subject.

Sif lifted an eyebrow. "Ready for another adventure so soon?" she asked.

"Odin has a meeting with the elf queen, and she requested I come, I guess." Kyra hated skirting around the truth with Sif, but Loki's true identity was already hanging in the balance. She didn't need to be the one to make it worse.

"Alfheim is a wonderful realm," Sif told her. "I haven't been there in years. Be careful though. Even the most beautiful of realms holds its own unique dangers."

"What happened in Vanaheim?" Kyra asked. "The illusion… Did I really do that?"

"Odin claims it's impossible, but I know what I saw," Sif said thoughtfully. "You created another you to distract the beast. It took all your energy to do so though. Have you ever done anything like that before?"

Kyra shook her head. "Seeing through the Enchantress's illusion was the first time I'd done anything out of the ordinary."

"Then it is a mystery. Be careful. I know you want to learn more, but don't hurt yourself to do so."

"I'll be careful. Whatever I did…it frightened me. It didn't feel natural, and I'm not sure I want to do it again. Like the king said, mortals shouldn't be able to use magic. I'm sure there's some other explanation." What that was, she couldn't say, but she was content to pretend for the time being that the illusion had been some crazy fluke.

"I should let you rest. You need to be ready for tomorrow. I wish the king had mentioned this to me. I'd like to come in case I'm needed."

Kyra wished she could come. "I think this was something he needed to do alone. Well, mostly alone," Kyra told her, guilt twisting her gut at the disappointment on her friend's face. "Maybe next time. We can go on another adventure minus the bilgesnipes."

Sif smiled. "I'd like that."

"Thanks for saving me from drowning in my own bathtub," Kyra added as Sif opened the door to leave. "That would have been embarrassing."

"It'll be our secret," Sif assured her.

Kyra sat by the fire until sleep tugged at her eyes. She was afraid to go back to sleep, she realized. Afraid she'd see that horrible face again, the white, unseeing eye. What frightened her the most was knowing that these nightmares might not be nightmares at all but rather parts of her life she'd erased from her memories. What really happened in that house fourteen years ago?


	13. Twelve: Alfheim

**Author's Note:** *hangs head in shame* I said I was going to update more because I had more free time and what did I do? I did not update. I feel terrible. So I wrote you this chapter this morning! I watched Infinity War opening night. I have lots of feelings about this. Particularly concerning the first five minutes. I'm seriously 100% open to PMs if you want to discuss the movie because I'm still reeling from it three days later. I literally woke up at 6 am the night after I saw it freaking out about certain things that happen. Certain things that should be fixed.

In other news, my free time is going to dry up starting the day after tomorrow. Because...I got hired on full time at the library I work at! I'm so incredibly excited. I interviewed today and accepted the job 3 hours later. I'll be processing interlibrary loans, and I get my own office. I've worked two part time jobs living paycheck to paycheck most of my adult life, so this is like a huge step up for me. I'll be an actual real adult who may or may not already be planning on buying an Infinity War Lego set with her first paycheck. But never fear! I will not stop updating! I'll have a set schedule for the first time ever, so I might be able to find a nice routine for writing. No promises, but I'll try my best!

Anyway, I've gotten some lovely reviews, and I just wanted to say thank you and thank you for sticking with my story! You guys are awesome!

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 **Twelve** **–** **Alfheim**

Kyra was dressed and ready by dawn the next day, the knife Loki had given her tucked safely against her side. She felt recovered from Vanaheim though her nightmares still doggedly chased her. She bypassed breakfast, her stomach dancing with nerves at the thought of coming face to face with Amora again. She and Loki were playing a game of wits, and Kyra did not want to be in the middle of that.

Her boots clicked on the stone floors and, as she traced her way back to the throne room, she realized she was already finding her way around without someone to guide her. Asgard still felt foreign like a dream that had stretched on for far too long, but there was something familiar about it too. She'd never really felt as if she belonged in her life back on Earth, and so far Asgard had taught her more about herself than she'd ever learned back home. After her dream the night before, she wasn't sure she wanted to learn more about her past. Whatever memories the medications she'd been taking had been holding back were now filtering their way back into her mind, showing her the secrets that had been kept behind locked doors. The only reason she wanted to keep opening doors was the thought that one of them might be hiding the answer to how she could see through illusions and lies. Mortals couldn't wield magic, but could someone be given powers through science?

The throne room was empty when she arrived, so Kyra wandered forward, eyes aimed upward to observe the painted ceilings. They depicted Odin, Thor, and Loki, lit up with gold. There was so much history here that no one on Earth could even begin to imagine. History books knew nothing of the battles fought on Asgard or the gods that wielded mythical weapons.

"You're early." Kyra jumped at the sounds of Loki's voice. She tore her eyes away from the paintings to find him leaning against one of the pillars, dressed in his usual black and green. His black hair curled over his shoulders, slightly damp at the ends. Green eyes watched her, any hint of fear or worry over what they were about to do hidden well. Kyra approached him, keeping her own face emotionless.

"Which guise are you wearing today?" she asked. Loki cocked his head to the side.

"You can't tell?" he asked her. A test.

Kyra narrowed her eyes and concentrated. Nothing changed, and she couldn't sense an illusion. "None. You're not wearing an illusion right now." Wasn't that what had gotten him into this mess in the first place?

Loki shrugged. "Sometimes it feels good to be in my own skin." He looked away from her and green flickered around his edges. Odin stood before her a moment later though she could see straight through him to Loki.

"I can still see you," Kyra said. His eyes flitted to hers and for a fraction of a moment she thought she saw a flicker of uncertainty. Then it was gone, and his usual superior expression was back.

"Good. Then you'll see through any of Amora's illusions."

"It's just too bad your magic isn't as strong as hers," she shot at him, hurrying to catch up as he strode toward the doors with long strides.

He didn't look back, but she saw a muscle in his jaw twitch. "Her magic is nothing compared to mine."

"Then how come you can't see through her illusions?" Kyra ventured.

"I don't know," he gritted out. He was leading her to the stables she realized after a moment, and she pushed back her nerves. She hadn't ridden without Sif, and she didn't think Loki would ride slowly for her sake. He went straight to a sleek black horse who nickered in greeting. "Pick a horse," he said.

"Do I have to? Are they coming _to_ Alfheim with us? Can you take a horse through the Bifrost?"

"So many questions." He said it with disdain, but Kyra really did want to know the answers so she waited, lifting an eyebrow at him. "Yes, you have to unless you wish to walk. Yes, they are coming. And yes, they can go through the Bifrost. They're not like Midgardian horses that shy at the smallest thing."

"Why can't Heim– Why can't _Skurge_ just send us right to the castle?" she asked.

"That would be considered rude," Loki told her. "The light elves forbid people from using the Bifrost to directly access the castle. We must take the road leading to the castle so that the guards can invite us in. We need horses for that."

When she didn't respond, he threw up his hands, green eyes flashing with impatience. "Look, just pick a horse and let's go."

Kyra tried to find the horse Sif had let her ride before, but they all looked the same to her. "Which one is gentle?" she asked.

She imagined Loki was rolling his eyes behind her back. She heard him unlatch his horse's stall and the clomp of hooves. Then she felt arms around her waist. Before she could struggle, Loki had heaved her up onto the horse's back and pulled himself up after her. "Why don't you ride with me so I can catch you if you fall off?" he breathed in her ear, slipping his arms around her to grip the horse's mane.

"How do I know you won't just let me fall?" she asked a little breathlessly. It looked like an awfully long way down.

"You're going to have to trust me," he said.

"Easier said than done," Kyra muttered. Loki nudged the horse, and it started forward. Kyra threw her hands against the horse's neck, and Loki chuckled.

"She's not going to do anything unexpected," he told her. "I trained her myself."

"I don't really find that reassuring."

After they cleared the stables, Loki urged the horse into a trot, jolting Kyra against him. She stiffened as his arms tightened around her. "Relax." She could hear the amusement in his voice, a rumble of laughter in his chest though he didn't let it pass his lips.

"You're insufferable," she spat at him.

"You're afraid of horses," he countered.

"I'm afraid of heights," she corrected him. "There's a difference. Also I'd never ridden a horse before I came here. They seem unpredictable."

"It's not that they're unpredictable; it's that people are and people are the ones that train them. I trained Asta myself, and she has never failed me."

His words surprised Kyra. She couldn't imagine him having the patience to train a horse, but she couldn't deny the animal seemed to trust him implicitly and vice versa. "How long have you had her?" Conversation was distracting, so Kyra tried to concentrate on Loki's voice rather than the road speeding by under Asta's hooves.

"Since I was a boy. Odin gifted Thor and me each with a horse when we turned ten. They were wild at the time, and we had to tame them ourselves. Thor's was a chestnut stallion, a fierce beast that took him a long time to tame. Patience was never really Thor's strong suit."

"And it's yours?" Kyra scoffed.

"I understood that I had to earn Asta's trust before I tamed her. It's not about being the quickest or about breaking the beast. It's about acceptance and trust. Once she realized I had no intention of harming her, she bonded with me. Thor ended up breaking his stallion before Asta would even let me touch her but, in the end, I earned her loyalty. Thor's stallion is just another horse to be ridden into battle."

Kyra considered for a moment. "Then why did you come down to Earth the way you did and demand people bow to you? That wasn't patient. That wasn't about loyalty or trust. That was you trying to break us."

Loki tensed behind her, and Kyra instantly regretted her words. Not everything had to be a fight between them, but somehow she couldn't seem to just have a normal conversation with him.

"I was patient for a long, long time," he told her, words sharp. "I waited for centuries only to be overlooked again and again. Patience did nothing when Thor was celebrated for his brashness and brute strength."

"So you tried to be more like him to get what you wanted."

"It didn't work."

"Usually when you try to be someone you're not, it doesn't. Although I'm not sure I'd call what you're doing now a success."

"Thank you for your unwanted opinions on the matter."

They had reached the rainbow bridge, and Loki kicked his horse into a canter. Kyra gritted her teeth knowing he was full aware of how uncomfortable it made her feel with the water rushing below them, waiting to suck her down under should she lose her balance. The golden dome shone in the morning sunlight ahead, and Kyra felt a little twinge of excitement at the thought of exploring another realm. Even if it was with Loki. Loki rode Asta straight into the observation dome where Skurge was sitting looking bored. Kyra noticed an odd assortment of items piled to the side of the room—items that looked as if they might have come from Earth. Before she got the chance to ask, Loki greeted Skurge who leapt to his feet and sunk into a bow.

"I have business in Alfheim," Loki said as Odin.

"Of course, my king." Skurge slipped the sword that had once belonged to Heimdall into the device at the center of the room and twisted it. The eye at the front of the room opened to reveal the colorful Bifrost. Loki's grip tightened as they were sucked into the portal. The journey was over quickly, and Kyra realized she'd closed her eyes and pressed her head into Loki's shoulder for the duration of it. She quickly pulled away, pretending it hadn't happened.

A moment later she was thoroughly distracted by the land around her. Alfheim was an abundance of thick greenery in a shade somewhere between lime and lemons. Everything was bright and glowing—ethereal if Kyra put a word to it. She gazed around, open-mouthed. Birds stirred in the trees at their sudden arrival and a furry creature skittered across the path in front of them, startling Kyra. Asta stood patiently, waiting for Loki's command.

"Welcome to Alfheim," he told Kyra, nudging his horse forward. "Don't let its beauty fool you. It can be deadly."

A neon blue butterfly flew past, and Kyra wondered how serious Loki was being. A moment later she saw a bird swoop for the butterfly. The second its beak touched the bright blue wings, an electrical surge lit up the air, and the bird fell to the ground and did not move again. Kyra let out a startled yelp.

"Consider yourself warned," Loki told her, sounding weary.

"I will keep my hands to myself," Kyra told him, eyeing the bright yellow flowers by the side of the road with suspicion. "How far is it to the castle?"

"An hour's ride if we're lucky." He nudged Asta into a slow canter.

"And if we're not lucky?" She probably shouldn't have asked, but she did anyway.

"Months maybe years. That's if we leave the path. As long as we stay on it, we'll be fine."

"What happens if you leave the path?" Kyra asked, eyeing the thick forest on either side of the road. She could barely see through the trees, so she didn't think it'd be a problem sticking to the road.

"You probably don't want to know," he told her and left it at that.

They rode in silence for a long time, and Kyra kept expecting a castle to appear ahead of them at any moment. The landscape changed very little and, after a time, it grew less and less fascinating. She didn't see any more killer butterflies but occasionally another odd creature would stir in the forest beside them. Loki seemed unconcerned, but Kyra kept glancing over his shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever it was. Finally, after she'd whirled her head around for the fifth time, Loki gave a long sigh.

"You're going to give yourself whiplash."

"I swear I saw something this time," she told him. "Don't you get the feeling we're being watched?"

"Oh, we're being watched," he said matter-of-factly. "We've been under watch since we first arrived."

Kyra reached up a hand to twist the ends of her long braid around her fingers. "Right. Good. Glad they know we're here."

"Relax. You have nothing to worry about. Amora would like nothing more than to slit my throat, but you she'd probably just make her pet."

"Comforting." Kyra hesitated, but the question had been gnawing at her for a while now. "You know Amora. As Loki. I was wondering–"

"No."

"I didn't finish my–"

"We're not discussing any history Amora and I may or may not have," Loki told her firmly.

"So there is a history."

"I didn't say that." She could tell by his tone that she'd gotten under his skin.

"Mmm. I think there is."

"Drop it," he growled, tightening his grip on Asta's mane until his knuckles turned white.

"Fine. I'll drop it, but I think I deserve to know since you're dragging me along to be your canary. I should know what I'm getting into." She felt like she'd been used and manipulated a lot of her life, and suddenly Loki using her too didn't sit well with her. "Just some assurance that she isn't going to murder us both on sight would be nice," she muttered.

"I'm almost certain that won't happen. She wants something from me," Loki told her, tone dark. "And she thinks she's going to get it."

"I didn't really want to be a part of your little manipulation contest," Kyra pointed out.

"Yeah, well, we don't always get what we want." The bitterness was clear in his tone, but Kyra felt far from sorry for him.

"Oh, yes, I forgot. You just lie and cheat to get what you want. It must be so hard sitting on your throne of lies day after day, being hand-fed grapes and the finest ales."

"You think that's what I do all day?" He sounded amused rather than angry.

"I really have no idea what you do all day." Besides torture her with knife-throwing practice.

"Well, now it's all at risk because of the Enchantress," he added, and the frustration was clear in his voice. If she tried to see it from his standpoint, she understood that frustration. Here he'd finally gained all he'd ever wanted only to have it threatened by someone who seemed to be nearly as powerful if not more powerful than him. And manipulative as well. But Kyra didn't feel bad for him because he hadn't gained the throne fairly, and he certainly hadn't proved to her why he would make a good ruler. Not that she'd spent much time around him since arriving.

"Are we there yet?" she asked, feeling like putting a little distance between them. Her back was growing warm where it rested against his chest, and she was uncomfortably aware of his legs brushing hers.

He gave an irate sigh. "We're not going to get there any faster if you keep asking."

"The scenery is getting boring." The forest hadn't changed at all, and it felt as if they'd been riding for hours. "Wait…" Kyra looked around. "Nothing is changing. Loki." She turned, accidentally jabbing him with her elbow. "Are we still on the path?"

"We haven't left the path." He sounded annoyed, but Kyra thought she detected a hint of trepidation as well.

"Are you sure the path isn't just going on and on without ending? Because that's what it feels like."

The trees looked the same anyway, but she was beginning to recognize scenery like the rotting tree stump covered in vividly red ivy leaves and the knot in the tree where she could swear eyes blinked out at them. Even the clouds reeling overhead in the too-blue sky were taking on familiar shapes. She looked down at the path and saw the body of a bird lying prone beside it.

"Stop. Stop the horse," she said, putting up a hand. Asta stopped at once, snorting and bobbing her black head. Kyra threw her leg over the mare's side and slid to the ground.

"What are you doing?" Loki made no move to dismount.

"Being your canary," Kyra told him, stopping a few feet ahead and reaching out a hand. Her fingers brushed something warm, a spark traveling down her skin. She pressed both hands flat and concentrated. For a moment nothing happened, but then a wall of energy rippled before her. She pressed harder, focusing all her attention on the illusion. It shattered before her like glass and suddenly gates woven from tree branches towered above them, guards stationed at either side. She turned to look back at Loki, raising an eyebrow. He looked mildly impressed before he straightened his expression and nudged Asta forward.

"Show off," he muttered as he stopped the horse beside her and offered her a hand. She let him pull her up behind him and sat for a moment, unsure of what to do with her hands. Then the guards opened the gates and Loki urged Asta into a trot forcing Kyra to grab his waist. He chuckled, and she knew he'd done that on purpose. She swallowed her pride as she held onto him. It was better than falling off the horse, she told herself. Maybe.

Up ahead stood a castle that looked as if it had been built of melted pearls. Sunlight glinted off of the twisted turrets and the winding archways. It was beautiful, but marred by the poisonous Enchantress who'd unrightfully stolen the throne.

"What do you think she'll do?" Kyra asked, craning her neck around Loki's shoulder to get a better view.

"Nothing good. Don't let her trick you into thinking she has a shred of decency in her." He twisted his fingers in Asta's mane, and she could tell he was nervous though he tried to hide it.

"Whatever she did to you must have been bad," Kyra mused. "Maybe she'll poison us."

"Amora is a manipulator not a killer. She likes to play games and get people to do what she wants."

Kyra thought back to the knife Amora had thrown the night of the feast. "Could have fooled me with that knife."

"That was before she knew it was me."

"Are you sure about that? I've heard of a lot of girls trying to stab their exes."

"Do you ever stop talking?" he threw at her.

"Oh, believe me; I'll be letting you do all the talking in there," she assured him.

The path wound up to the palace steps, and Kyra froze when she saw a figure standing at the top draped in sheathes of white. Her white-blonde hair was nearly blinding in the sunlight, and her skin was pale as magnolia blossoms, pointed ears sharp as arrowheads. Kyra had to remind herself that it was illusion. This wasn't really the queen of Alfheim but Amora. The illusion began to fade until she could see the long, black hair and the piercing green eyes in place of misty grey. The Enchantress appeared before her, spreading out her arms in welcome.

"Odin," she called out, keeping up appearances. "And that delightful mortal of yours." Kyra cringed. "Welcome to Alfheim."


	14. Thirteen: The Elf Queen

**Author's Note:** I just rewatched Thor: Ragnarok and got all the Loki feels. I also went to see Infinity War again last night. It was beautiful and devastating just like last time. I'm going to try to write another chapter tomorrow as I have the day off! I'm like in this Marvel haze that lasts for weeks after I see one of the new movies. I also may have purchased a Loki bobble (the adorable funko pop one) for my new office at my workplace. He falls over, so he has to lean against something. His cape and hair are just too majestic for him to keep his balance, I guess.

* * *

 **Thirteen** **–** **The Elf Queen**

Loki had been twelve when he'd first met Amora. That was long before she'd become the Enchantress, long before she'd grown to hate him. They'd been rivals even then, competing to see who could get the best marks in their classes. She'd been the only one his age who'd ever been able to beat him in wits and cunning—something he wouldn't freely admit to anyone. Amora had a way of getting under his skin and yet…he would have called her a friend. Thor was going through a phase at this age where it was uncool to hang out with his brother. Even then, Loki had never quite fit in with his winter-pale skin and raven-black hair. Most of the boys his age enjoyed fighting and showing off their brute strength. Loki preferred books and logic. That made him different. If he was different, then Amora was too. True, she excelled at weapons and agility, but she also had a thirst for knowledge. She was the daughter of two nobles, born of Asgard, and expected to achieve great things. As Loki had learned years later, the burden of expectation could be too heavy sometimes.

Now, Amora was nothing like the child she had once been. She was cruel and cunning in a way that left no room for honesty. Of course right now, standing before her, Loki could only see the illusion of the elf queen. He felt a twist of irritation at this and at the girl sitting behind him on the horse who could, most likely, see straight through the illusion.

"Odin," Amora called out, her voice ethereal and pitched much higher than the Enchantress's own voice. "What a pleasure it is to have you in my court."

Loki dismounted the horse, the mortal slipping off after him rather ungracefully. She was a contrast to the elf queen in every way: skin the color of a fading sunset against that of freshly fallen snow; dark eyes that glowed amber in the sunlight against two twinkling pools of blue; hair a shade between night and earth against nearly colorless blonde. Amora held herself like someone used to getting her way, used to being praised and fawned over. The mortal hung behind Loki like a stray dog afraid of being kicked. Loki had never met Queen Aelsa of the light elves before, and so it did not concern him a great deal that she was currently captive somewhere. What concerned him was the fact that Amora had taken her place.

"It is a pleasure to be here," Loki returned. He found himself fidgeting under her stare, wondering if she could see through _his_ illusion.

Amora's eyes slid past him to the girl. "And I see you've brought the delightful mortal I've heard so much about." Her words were more acid than enchantment now, and he could sense the girl recoiling behind him. She had the sense to fear Amora, just not to hide it.

"As requested." He wanted to cut to the chase, dispense with the pleasantries, and find out what Amora wanted from him. She had the advantage in every way. This was her domain, even if it was unjustly taken, and she knew Loki's true identity. She towered above him on her palace steps, making him feel small.

"Come with me, please," the elf queen illusion said, turning and heading into the palace. Loki followed, taking note of the guards flanking the palace entrance. They didn't blink as Loki and the girl passed, but he knew they'd taken in every detail of them. Loki did, too. His eyes darted around, counting guards and weapons as they passed through the open archway of the palace. It wasn't so much a building, he soon realized, but a part of the nature that grew around it. Tree branches arced upward, their densely packed canopies forming a sort of roof. Birds chattered above in perfect harmony. The stone floor underneath their feet was strewn with leaves, and he wondered if light elves had ever heard of brooms. It was far too close to nature for him, and he wondered if that was why Amora was not content to sit on the throne or if she hated wearing an illusion as much as he.

She led them through a series of halls, the walls crafted from white stone but with holes here and there to let nature in like an old friend. She finally paused before a set of doors flanked by two elven guards. The guards opened the doors in perfect synchrony as if they'd rehearsed this moment.

"I have business with King Odin and am not to be disturbed," Amora told the guards as she breezed past them. Loki followed, trailed by the mortal girl who looked frightened at the prospect of being alone in the room with Amora.

The doors shut with a conclusive creak, and Amora turned to them. "What a relief," she said, sliding her pale fingers through her white-blonde hair. "Now I can shed this sickly, pale skin and pointed ears."

Before their eyes, she shifted, white hair turning black, blue eyes turning green. Finally, Amora stood there in place of the elf queen. "Now, now," she tutted. "Aren't you going to face me as yourself, or would you rather keep that wrinkled face of an old man?"

Loki tightened his jaw but shed his Odin guise. His long, green cloak fluttered behind him, and his hair curled around his ears, ebony black instead of greyish blonde. They were standing in the throne room, he realized as Amora took a seat on the elf queen's throne. She tapped her fingers on the arm of the chair, which looked as if it had been twisted and formed from the roots of a tree. "That's better. You always were handsome though your brother got all the attention."

"I didn't come here for flattery, Amora. Let's skip the pleasantries."

Amora's lips stretched into a predatory smile. "Always so impatient these days. You used to be fun. Remember those days, Loki? We used to be friends. More than friends."

"I'm surprised you remembered. The last time we met, I remember you trying to stab me. And then, of course, there was the incident at the feast just a few days ago." He was hyper-conscious of the mortal standing behind him, hearing every word he said, but what did it matter if she knew a little of Amora and his history? He could always threaten to throw her in the dungeons again.

"Oh, yes," Amora purred. "What were we? Seven hundred? Eight?"

"I haven't been counting."

Amora's eyes went to the mortal. "To you that must seem like an impossible amount of time to be alive," she said.

"Seems like enough time to learn to make better life choices."

Loki nearly choked, spinning around to glare at the girl. Did she not realize Amora wouldn't hesitate to kill her? The girl was staring defiantly up at Amora, dark eyes narrowed. She didn't look afraid, and Loki wondered if she really wasn't or if she was trying to hide it. Her eyes slid sideways to meet his, and she gave him a little shrug. The sound of laughter was Loki's next surprise as Amora actually smiled at the mortal.

"You've got your hands full with that one," Amora said, standing and striding forward. The girl stiffened as Amora reached up a pale hand to grasp her chin. Her long fingernails were painted black, and they pressed into the girl's cheeks like claws poised to pierce. Loki found himself tensing, ready to slap Amora's hand away if necessary. Amora, however, simply turned the girl's head to the side and then the other, studying her with fascination glowing in her green eyes.

"What makes you so special?" she asked. She released the girl and turned, ignoring them as if she didn't really expect an answer. "You come from Midgard, and yet you have no trouble seeing through the illusions of gods." Loki lifted a brow. Amora was no god, but she must fancy herself one. Ruling Alfheim was going to her head. "You've also somehow managed to keep yourself useful to Loki. You are pretty for a mortal. Perhaps his taste has changed over the centuries," she suggested, smirking at Loki.

"Is there an actual reason you invited us here?" he asked, knowing she was trying to bait him and refusing to fall for it. "Lovely as Alfheim is, I do rather have more pressing matters."

"Oh, yes, like writing a play in honor of yourself." She chuckled at the surprise on his face. "I happened to overhear you speaking to one of the Asgardian playwrights. How noble of you to celebrate your own death. I'm sure it will be a hit."

" _That's_ what you're doing as king?" the mortal spoke up, and she didn't bother to hide the judgment in her voice.

"I'll ask once more," Loki said to Amora, ignoring the girl altogether. "What do you want with us?"

"From you. _From_ you, my dear Loki. I thought you knew the difference by now." She'd always been demanding, even as a child, used to getting her way. Loki had been one of the few people to talk her out of her rages. Now, he knew better than to think she could be reasoned with.

"We already know you want the throne," the girl spoke up, and Loki was surprised to find she'd come up next to him. And she was speaking for him. He put a hand on her stomach and pushed her back, ignoring her protest.

"And that's not happening," Loki finished her thought. "You've no right to threaten me. I can expose you just as easily as you can expose me."

"No one would believe you." Amora sat back down on the throne. "That leaves you with a few choices. One: you hand over the throne. Odin is growing old, after all. Already the elves are whispering about his wits, how he's losing them, how he's hardly fit to rule Asgard anymore. Or, two: you agree to take a young queen to help rule. I allow you to keep your secret and your title."

"How about neither. I keep the throne, and you stay as far away from Asgard as possible," Loki suggested. "I will reveal my true identity before I let you sit on Asgard's throne."

Amora considered for a moment. "I won't ask again. What I offer is fair. As your queen, we could rule together. Shed the guise and rule Asgard as Loki." Her green eyes were fierce, impassioned, and he felt himself consider for a moment despite himself. Wasn't that what he'd always wanted? To rule Asgard as himself and not illusioned to look like his adoptive father. Perhaps he'd never truly attained his goal of ruling after all, but who was to say his people would not accept him as Asgard's true ruler? With Amora by his side, no one could overthrow them.

Something brushed his hand, and he started from his thoughts. "She's lying." He turned to look down at the girl who stared back up at him with dark eyes. "I can see straight through her lies. She wouldn't keep you around if you let her share the throne." He blinked down at her, knowing her words were true and cursing himself for even entertaining the thought of accepting Amora's offer. He owed her nothing. He was Loki, god of mischief, and that throne was _his_. Perhaps one day he would rule as himself and not Odin, but he wasn't letting Amora set the terms. He gave the mortal girl a slight nod and turned back to Amora.

"No, I don't think I'll accept your offer," he told her. "But it was so kind of you to invite us here. I think we'll be going now." He made to take a step back.

"Oh, I don't think so. Did you really think I brought you all the way here expecting you to accept my offer?" Amora asked, clenching her fingers around the arms of her throne. "Do you think I really spent years of planning just to give up? Why Loki, it's like you hardly know me at all."

"Oh, I'm afraid I know you all too well," Loki said, "which is why I don't trust anything you offer me."

"Why did you insist I come here?" the girl asked. "I can see through your illusions, tell when you're lying. I would think you'd want to keep me as far away from you as possible."

Amora rose, a smile spreading on her face. Her forest green dress pooled around her as she strode toward them, somehow both elegant and predatory. A lethal beauty that had once enthralled Loki. She no longer held that power over him. "That is exactly why I wanted you here so that when I take Asgard, there's no one around who can see through my illusions." She flung out her hands, and the wall behind Loki and the girl disappeared. A force like a punch hit them, sending them flying backwards into the reaching arms of the trees. The last thing Loki saw was Amora's green eyes alight with triumph before the trees swallowed them whole.

…

Loki blinked his eyes open, the scene around him blurry and distorted for a moment. He put a hand to his head, and it came away bloody. An ache chased its way down his temple, and he groaned. He was lying in the dirt surrounded by the mossy trees that grew in abundance in Alfheim. There was no sign of the castle. No sign of any pathway. Just trees and more trees, pressing in around him like unfriendly faces. His eyes fell on a figure lying prone across from him. Her face was pale, and a scratch ran down her cheek, red blood pooling on the ground beside her.

He got unsteadily to his feet and crouched beside her, touching her shoulder. "Hey, wake up." When she didn't stir, he pressed his fingers to her neck to feel for a pulse. He found one, beating out a frantic rhythm. He wiped the blood from her cheek and rolled her over so she was lying on her back. With a sigh, he sat down next to her. "Kyra." He gave her another nudge. "You're not dead, are you?"

She shifted, wincing as she blinked her eyes open. "You are the worst," she told him, pinning him with her bleary eyes. "Go away."

For some reason, that made him smile. "There's not really anywhere to go. I'm afraid we're stuck together."

She halfheartedly lifted her fist and punched him in the leg. "You have terrible ideas, and coming here was one of them."

"I thought you were supposed to be my canary. Why didn't you see the danger?"

She shot him a glare. "I'm not a magician. I can't see the future. I could have told you back in Asgard that this was a terrible idea and that Amora is dangerous. She tricked you, beat you at your own game. I'm sure she's already on her way to Asgard. Maybe she does deserve the crown. After all, she tricked the trickster."

And now she was beginning to get on his nerves. "I'd choose your next words wisely," he told her, smile fading.

"Go to hell."

He huffed, getting to his feet. "Come on."

"Come where?" she asked, looking around from her position on the ground. She made no move to get up. "I thought you said people who left the path ended up wandering for an eternity. Oh, thank god I'm mortal. Can you imagine spending eternity with you? Oh, wait…"

Loki rolled his eyes before grabbing her arm and pulling her up. She gave a startled cry, her balance faltering for a moment. She caught herself, hands splayed on his chest before giving him a resentful glare and thrusting him backwards a step. She wiped more blood from her face, smearing it on her shirt.

"Any chance this is an illusion?" he asked, eyeing the trees.

"It's very much real, just like my ever-growing hatred for you." She shoved past him and approached the edge of the trees. "We have to try to get out of here."

"Well, obviously, but we have no idea which direction to go."

"How about opposite directions?" she suggested, forcing her way through the branches and heading into the forest. Loki gave an impatient growl before following after her. She had an easier time fitting through the branches with her smaller frame, and he was soon bleeding from several sharp scratches.

"Hold on," he called after her. "We should stick together. I doubt you'd last a minute if something attacked us, knife or no knife."

"I'm more worried about you lasting longer than a minute."

He wondered if she actually thought her threats held any power. They were amusing; he'd give her that though he didn't doubt she'd try to stab him if he gave her reason to.

"Your company is so inspiring. It's a wonder you don't have more friends."

"You know nothing about me." He'd touched a tender spot. He grinned viciously.

"I know you were alone before you came to Asgard, abandoned and unloved. Is there anyone there to mourn your disappearance? Or have you just disappeared as if you never existed?"

She paused for a moment before whirling on him. He wasn't surprised to find the knife in her grasp and caught her wrist before it could come close to his throat. Her eyes were sparking with anger, but he caught something else behind that anger: sorrow. Truth. Harsh as his words were, he hadn't been wrong. "You can see through lies," he told her. "You know I speak the truth."

Her wrist trembled beneath his grip, and she loosened her hold on the knife. "Let go of me," she said, her voice no more than a whisper.

"Are you going to try to stab me again?"

"Probably." Her lip quivered a little, and he felt a twinge of remorse for his words. None of this was her fault. In fact, he'd really had no business dragging her into it. He'd put her in danger, and she'd called him on that several times. Right now they were stuck together, and it wasn't right of him to be so cruel. He was angry with himself, if he was being honest. It was easier to take it out on her, but that wasn't fair.

"Maybe I deserve it." She cocked her head at him, surprised at his words. "It's not your fault what Amora did, and you don't deserve my anger." He let go of her wrist, holding up his hands. She watched him for a moment, knife still poised near his throat. Then she dropped her arm. She took a step toward him, tipping her head up so that she could look him in the eye.

"No, I don't," she told him. "Don't ever treat me like that again." Then she turned and started through the trees, knife gripped in her fist at her side as if to protect herself from him. Loki watched her a moment before following.


	15. Fourteen: The Infinite Forest

**Fourteen** **–** **The Infinite Forest**

Once, when Kyra was seven, she'd been invited to one of her classmate's birthday parties. She hadn't wanted to go, knowing full well the girl's mother had insisted she invite the weird, loner girl. Her foster parents had been delighted, thinking that Kyra might, for once, be making friends. She'd shown up the day of the party wishing she could be home reading instead. Her parents had picked out a gift—one Kyra thought was silly and useless. It was one of those stupid dolls where you could style and cut its hair, but somehow it didn't end up bald in the end. Kyra wished she could go to the city library instead. She'd been researching foster families, trying to find a way out of hers. Most of the words went straight over her head, but she didn't let that stop her.

The girl who'd grudgingly invited her looked as if she'd rather leave Kyra on the doorstep, but she invited her in at her mother's insistence. Kyra had held out the gift. "Thanks." The girl set it on the stack of presents and ran off to rejoin her friends. Kyra had decided to make an effort. Who knew? Perhaps one of these girls would become her friend. That hadn't happened. Instead, Kyra had spent the next few hours wishing she were anywhere but there, resenting the girls around her for how cruel they could be with so few words.

That party reminded her of being stuck in the infinite forest with Loki. She wished she could be anywhere but there and with anyone but him. She'd been pointedly ignoring him for what felt like hours, forging her way through the tree branches and reaching roots, pushing aside moss and hanging ivy. Cobwebs matted her dark hair, and her braid was coming loose. Her skin was dirty from several falls, and the cut on her cheek stung horribly. Every so often, she'd pause, feeling for an illusion and picking out a new path if she found one. The forest couldn't really be infinite though Loki had told her that was, indeed, what its name was. The Infinite Forest. A place where people came and never left. She wondered if they'd find skeletons along their journey.

Loki had been silent for the most part, and she could almost believe he regretted his earlier words. She knew he was angry with himself for being beaten by Amora, but it was hardly fair for him to take it out on her. He somehow knew all the right buttons to push without knowing her at all, like they were in synch with each other for all the wrong reasons. She hadn't tested him again and had finally stowed her knife at her side when she needed both hands to climb over the tree roots. Nothing about the forest made sense. Tree roots crawled like spider legs, never really ending as they wove in and out and around each other. The bark of the trees was thick and peeling like weathered skin, and so far they hadn't come across a single animal. She supposed it wouldn't be deer or elk haunting the woods but perhaps more killer butterflies or something worse.

She couldn't tell if it was night or day. An unceasing greenish light filled the forest. She was hungry and thirsty, and her legs felt like lead. Finally, after what seemed like half a day but was probably only a few hours, Kyra stopped and sat down on a tree root. "I can't go any further," she said.

She expected Loki to protest. He looked as if he could run a marathon and still have his breath. Instead, he sat down across from her. "What's the use?" he asked her. "Amora will be in Asgard by now. We can't go back there even if we do escape this infernal forest."

"Really? That's it?" Kyra stood and glared down at him. He met her gaze, surprise dancing in his blue-green eyes. "You're just giving up because you had something taken away from you?" She was surprised when he didn't immediately argue.

"It's not that easy," he finally said, twisting his hands almost unconsciously. "Amora will not hesitate to reveal my identity. She can twist whatever lies she wants to."

"Then we turn that against her," Kyra said.

"I don't think you quite understand the gravity of the situation," Loki interrupted. "A mortal couldn't possibly understand the kind of power an immortal possesses."

"Oh, I think I'm beginning to understand quite a bit about immortals." Kyra pointed an angry finger at him, ire rising. "You're vain and flawed and stomp all over anyone who gets in the way to get what you want. New York? That was a hissy fit because you didn't get the throne you wanted, so you thought you'd try to take another. Well, you made the mistake of thinking mortals were weak and stupid back then. I wouldn't suggest you make it again. I see how you look at me—a lesser being because I'm not a god like you." She scrubbed a sleeve across her cheek. It had started to bleed again, and she imagined the dirt getting into the wound wasn't doing it any good.

"Stop," Loki said, standing and reaching out. Kyra tripped backwards, and he caught her by the elbow, pulling her upright again.

"Just hold still," he told her, ripping a piece of moss off of the tree beside them. It was damp when he pressed it to her face, carefully scrubbing off the blood and dirt. The pain was sharp for a moment and then receded. His hand was surprisingly gentle, and he lightly gripped her chin with his other hand, tipping her head back a little. She almost forgot she was mad at him. "Do you have a plan?" he asked, tossing the moss aside and releasing her chin. He sat back down on the root.

"Half a plan," Kyra admitted. "It involves a rescue mission, a possible alliance, and some illusions."

"I'm intrigued." He was giving her an odd look again, one she'd grown familiar with, as if he didn't quite know what to make of her. She gave him a smirk.

"Who is the one other person who knows of Amora's treachery?" she asked.

"The real elf queen." His eyes lit up, and she knew he was following.

"She knows what Amora has done. She could help us prove it. All we need to do is find her and rescue her. With her people on our side, we could usurp Amora from any and all thrones she's taken. And we might be able to keep your true identity a secret." She wasn't happy about this as she still thought he'd unrightfully taken the throne. He certainly hadn't done anything to prove to her that he was worthy of it. But his people didn't need to be thrown into chaos. Revealing he was Loki wouldn't help the situation any.

"Amora will have already told everyone who I really am."

Kyra sighed. "Not if I tell them she's wrong. I can see through illusions, remember?" She gave him a wry smile.

"You'd lie and say I'm really Odin?" Loki asked. "Why?"

She shrugged, picking at the bark on one of the trees. "You still haven't proved to me that you'd make a good king. You haven't really tried at all, so I'm giving you a second chance."

"Thank you? I'm not really sure I deserve it." He had the decency to look abashed.

"You do owe me an apology," Kyra told him, pressing the advantage. "And I wouldn't mind it if you stopped thinking of me as some weak mortal."

"I stand corrected." He looked down at his hands, tapping his fingers restlessly against his leg. "And I am sorry for what I said. That wasn't fair. I do know a thing or two about feeling alone."

"I can imagine it must be lonely living in someone else's skin." She hadn't meant to cut him with her words, but he winced as she spoke. "We should get going."

"Do you have any idea _where_ we're going?" he asked, getting to his feet and brushing off his hands. She noticed her blood dried there, embedded under his nails and in the lines of his fingertips.

"A forest can't truly be infinite," she told him, turning in a circle to find their next path. "Its infiniteness is an illusion to keep wanderers wandering and those who are lost hopelessly confused. I, however, can sense what is real and what is not." She stretched out her fingers toward an opening between two trees. "I can lead us out." She pressed harder and the illusion shattered. Night air pressed in around them, and the sky was black beyond, lit only by a smattering of constellations half hidden with storm clouds. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and she saw Loki tense. They stepped out into what appeared to be a clearing. It was hard to tell in the dark, but Kyra was just happy to be free of the hazy, green light and stifling air of the forest.

"Where are we?" Loki asked.

"I don't think we're out quite yet," Kyra replied. Lightning flashed in the distance, and she caught sight of something rising in the center of the clearing. "Come on," she said, moving toward it. She gripped the hilt of her knife, not liking the tense silence of the clearing. The next flash of lightning illuminated what appeared to be a tower. "I bet this is where she's keeping the elf queen," she said, hoping her guess was correct. What better place than the infinite forest to keep a prisoner? She would have thought the queen could find her way out, but perhaps even the elf queen didn't know the extent of the forest's secrets.

"How poetic," Loki said wryly as he stood next to her. "A queen locked in a tower waiting to be rescued."

She cast him a sideways glance. "You have fairy tales on Asgard?"

"Where do you think some of your stories originated?" He gave her a smirk. "I can only imagine you stabbing a prince before he got the chance to kiss you."

"Well, good thing we have a prince with us just in case she's enchanted." She moved past him, ignoring his muttering of 'king' under his breath.

The tower had a door unlike Rapunzel's own tower, and there was nothing all that imposing about it. They walked up to the door and found it unlocked. "This seems too easy," Kyra said as they walked into a dim room. Loki flicked his hand, and flames danced along his palm, not burning him but lighting the room all the same. It was completely empty and didn't look as if it had been lived in for years. There was a small cot in the corner beside a soot-blackened fireplace. An array of dusty pots and pans lay on a table and beside that, two slouching chairs.

"Charming," Loki said. "No one has been here in ages." He turned, and his flames illuminated a darkened, twisting staircase.

"You go first," Kyra suggested.

The upstairs yielded nothing but an empty room and a narrow window that let in a stream of moonlight. "I thought she'd be here," Kyra said as they wound their way down the stairs again.

"Well, she's not, and we might as well rest while we have shelter," Loki suggested, sending his flames into the fireplace. The half-burnt logs caught fire, and the chilly room began to warm. Kyra brushed off the blanket and sat down on the bed, thoroughly exhausted. Something occurred to her suddenly, and she stood back up. "Can't we just summon the Bifrost?" she asked.

"You think I didn't already think of that?" Loki asked. "It won't work here."

Kyra sat back down with a thump. "Fine. Then we'll find a way out tomorrow." Her stomach chose that moment to give an unearthly growl. "I'm starving."

"Don't look at me," Loki returned crisply. "I didn't bring any food. Try to think about something else."

Kyra curled up on the bed. "Tell me about you and Amora."

"Think about anything but that," he corrected her, dark brows bunching at the mention of Amora.

"It might help to talk about it," she suggested, pulling cobwebs from her hair and trying to comb the tangles out with them.

"It most certainly will not help."

"She dumped you, didn't she?" She cut her eyes to him, not missing his scowl as he turned away.

"I'm going to go have a look around outside." He moved toward the door, and Kyra leaned herself up on her elbow.

"Don't leave me here alone," she said, hating that she felt safer with him there.

"I'm not going anywhere. This is my polite way of trying to get some distance between us," he told her before heading out into the night, closing her in the tower alone.

She lay back down, pulling the blanket around her and letting the crackling of the fire be her company. It was better company than Loki, really. It didn't talk back to her or roll its eyes. Kyra closed her eyes and felt herself drifting off, half afraid her dreams would transport her out of the forest and back into the nightmares of her past.

…

Whether she dreamt or not was inconsequential when Kyra woke up to a terrific growl. She bolted up, throwing off the dusty blankets, and found the room empty. The fire had died down to a smolder as if Loki hadn't been back. There was another tremendous roar, and Kyra swore the walls and floor shook. She grabbed her knife and ran for the door, pulling it open. A gust of cool night air chilled her, sending goose bumps prickling up her arms. "Loki?" she called out as loudly as she dared. There was no answer. She took a step out onto the grass, peering cautiously around the dark clearing. The clouds had shuddered the stars and moon, and it was difficult to make out anything past the vague outlines of trees.

"I swear if something ate you, I'm not going to be happy."

A rustling in the trees had her whirling around. The clouds chose that moment to part, and she saw a familiar figure bolting from the tree line. A second later something huge crushed the trees behind him. Loki's eyes were wide with fear, something akin to having poked a hornet's nest and now finding himself fleeing a horde of angry wasps.

"Run! Get inside!" he shouted at her. Kyra could only stand and stare at the beast chasing after Loki. It had striped fur like a tiger, a pure white with pale grey stripes, and the bluest eyes Kyra had ever seen on an animal. Lethal claws extended from giant paws, and two horns twisted from its temples. Spikes ran down its back and ended with a spade-like tail. It was giant, and Kyra felt it had every intention to eat Loki. As she watched, the cat reached out a claw and snagged Loki's cloak. He went sprawling from the force of it, cloak ripping down the middle.

"Loki!" Kyra took a step forward, woefully aware of how small her knife was. It was going to be of absolutely no use, and it was her only weapon. Or was it? Kyra had created an illusion that had saved her life before. Could she do it again to save Loki's? She had no time to think. If she did nothing, then Loki was going to die. Perhaps earlier she might not have been too bothered by that, but right now she bent her will into keeping him alive.

As the giant cat raised its paw to deliver a killing blow, another roar erupted from behind Kyra. A matching tiger raced into the clearing, surging toward the real beast. The tiger paused, paw poised mid-air. It met Kyra's eyes for a moment, and something human glowed there for a second. Then the cat turned and fled, Kyra's illusion giving chase. Loki leapt to his feet, torn cloak fluttering weakly behind him. He watched the giant tigers disappear before turning to look at Kyra, surprise etched on his face.

Something hot dripped down Kyra's lip, and she reached up to feel blood flowing from her nose. Not again. The world grew dim around her, and she was vaguely aware of arms grasping her before she hit the ground. She felt herself being carried back into the little tower before everything went black.


	16. Fifteen: The White Tiger

**Fifteen – The White Tiger**

"Please don't die in my arms," Loki muttered, carrying Kyra back into the tower and slamming the door behind him. She was light in his arms, face red with blood and skin two shades paler. He laid her carefully on the bed, tearing off a piece of his already ruined cloak to wipe the blood from her face.

She groaned. "You do realize I've saved your life twice now." She opened her dark eyes. Loki breathed a silent sigh of relief. Last time this had happened, she'd been out for an entire day. They didn't have that kind of time now, and he didn't think he could get out of the forest without her.

"You could have killed yourself." Using her abilities seemed to drain her, and he still wasn't sure how she _had_ abilities.

"You're welcome." She moaned, trying to sit up. Loki put a hand on her shoulder.

"You should probably rest," he told her. "I don't think we're going anywhere for awhile."

"That beast… Loki, I don't think it was a beast at all." Her eyes were wide, and he had no idea what she was talking about. Perhaps she was suffering some ill effect of using her abilities.

"Those claws looked rather real." He probably shouldn't have gone outside, and he _certainly_ shouldn't have gone in the forest, but he was trying to feel out the illusions as Kyra did, unused to feeling so powerless. Loki's magic was strong; it always had been. But what Kyra could do… She could not only see through illusions but also _break_ them. He wanted to know how.

"No. It was real, but it was also an illusion of sorts. When I looked into that tiger's eyes, I saw a frightened woman. Loki, I think Amora turned the elf queen into that beast. Is that possible?" She pushed aside the hand he'd forgotten was on her shoulder and sat up so that she was level with him. He shifted on the bed, angling himself a little more toward her.

"You think the tiger _is_ the queen?"

"Is it possible?" Her eyes were eager, and her skin was gaining a little of its color back.

"Oh, it's possible. I myself have shape-shifted people into creatures before. I turned my brother into a frog once. He still hasn't forgiven me for that one. I can shape-shift myself, too. So, yes, Amora could have shifted the queen into a beast. That would definitely keep Aelsa from talking." It was a good plan. Amora had always been smart, calculating, but she also had a tendency to underestimate people. Leaving Loki and Kyra with the queen wasn't her smartest move.

"You turned your brother into a frog?" Kyra asked. Of course she got hung up on that point.

"It was one time. He was being quite irritating."

"I'm surprised you haven't tried the same thing on me." He glanced at her, but she was staring at the wall ahead of her. A small smile lifted her lips. "Can you break the spell?"

Normally, Loki would have replied 'yes' at once but the truth was, he wasn't entirely sure. Amora's magic had grown strong. Frighteningly so. "Maybe."

"I can help," she suggested though he could tell the thought scared her.

"No. You nearly killed yourself creating that illusion. If you die, I'm stuck here forever, so let's avoid that." Her lips curved up in a small smile.

"It's almost like you care whether I live or die," she said.

"Don't get too cocky." He stood, walking over to the fire and prodding it with a dusty poker. "Try to get some more sleep. We'll figure this out in the morning." He half expected her to protest, but she lay back down, eyes closing. He sat in one of the tilting chairs, eyes set on the door. He thought he heard a distant growl once, but they were left in peace for the remainder of the night. Thunder rolled in the distance, but it never passed overhead, much to his relief. He didn't sleep. Didn't need sleep the way mortals did, but the forest and their situation was beginning to wear on him, and he would have given quite a lot to get out and back to Asgard. Would Kyra's plan work? If they were to break Amora's spell on the elf queen, they'd have a witness to the Enchantress's misdeeds. And allies. They could take back Asgard, and Kyra could repair what damage Amora's silver tongue had done. It might just work.

He realized with a jolt that he'd stopped thinking about Kyra as the 'girl' or the 'mortal.' Before he hadn't wanted to give her name, hadn't wanted to make her anything other than the weak human she was, but…. That wasn't who she was. She wasn't weak but resourceful and fiery. She wasn't what he'd first imagined her to be, and he realized he'd misjudged her. Perhaps he wasn't ready to start liking her, and he certainly wasn't about to call her a friend, but the tentative alliance they had wasn't all bad either.

Maybe if they got out of this, he'd have to reconsider some things. She didn't have to help him, though he knew she wanted out of the forest just as much as he. Part of the reason he'd been keeping such a close eye on her was fear of her exposing his identity. She was close with Sif. One word, and Sif could have the Warriors Three ready to usurp him. Somehow, he didn't think Kyra would do that. Unless he did something particularly aggravating in her opinion. Whatever this tentative alliance was—however long it would last—he knew he needed to play it carefully. He needed to give her a reason for her continued silence. Threats weren't going to work, and they seemed in poor taste after she'd saved his life. He was finding it oddly nice to have someone to talk to for a change even if half the words they exchanged were in anger or scorn. He hadn't had anyone to talk to since his mother had died, really. He and Thor hadn't been close since they were children, and he'd never had much of a friendship with Sif or the Warriors Three. They'd always been suspicious of him and, he supposed, he had proved their suspicions right time and time again.

Kyra didn't wake until the dawn light pressed its way in through the narrow windows of the tower, slicing orange lines across her face. She stirred, stretching her arms almost unconsciously until she remembered where she was. Then her eyes flew open, and she sat up quickly.

"Easy," he said when she instantly put a hand to her head.

"I'm okay. Just a little residual exhaustion from last night." Spells weren't supposed to make you bleed from your nose like that. Loki had never had a negative reaction like that. It made him wonder if it was hurting her to use her abilities. He didn't put voice to his theory—it wouldn't do any good to concern her, but he didn't think her using her abilities was a good idea. At least until they learned more about them.

"What's the plan?" she asked, standing tentatively. Her hair was a riot of waves, and she tied it back into a neat braid, pulling a few stray spider webs out as she did.

"I thought you were the one with all the plans," he said, perhaps a little more sharply than he meant. Kyra narrowed her eyes, and he tried again. "As you said last night: we need to break the spell on Aelsa. The first step is finding her which, I'll admit, is not exactly a comforting thought."

"Relax," Kyra said, dusting off her shirt and readjusting the knife at her side. "Now that we know she's not really a vicious beast, the likelihood of her actually eating you is like 50/50. Because I have no idea how conscious the queen is inside of that beast."

Loki stood, giving her an exasperated look. "If you were trying to make me feel better, you failed magnificently."

Her smile was nothing short of predatory. "I know." She brushed past him, opening the door and walking out into the morning air.

The clearing was quiet and much less intimidating in the daylight. The thunder had faded halfway through the night, headed toward the south. Even if he and Thor had left off on somewhat amiable terms, the sound of thunder still made Loki nervous. Considering Thor thought him dead, he could imagine his fury if he ever found out Loki was alive and well, currently sitting on the usurped throne of Asgard.

"How do you plan on finding her again?" Loki followed Kyra out of the tower, stepping out onto the springy grass. The trees looked only slightly less intimidating by daylight, and he had no desire to enter the Infinite Forest again.

"Well, how did you find her last night?" She lifted an eyebrow. The cut on her cheek had started to heal, and it wasn't deep enough to scar. His own scratches had already healed—perks to being an immortal being.

"Quite by accident, I can assure you."

"Why were you even in the woods? Trying to leave?" It sounded like an accusation, and he could see it in her eyes, a sort of uncertainty that told him she didn't quite know whether or not he would leave her. They were more amber than brown in the daylight, he now realized as the sun painted her face orange and gold.

"I heard something, and I went to investigate." Not, perhaps, his most brilliant idea in retrospect. He'd certainly had no luck trying to feel out the infinite illusion. "Perhaps you'd like to summon her this time?"

"Well, she can't have gone far. She's too big to fit through the trees, so there must be some sort of clue as to where she went." Kyra began moving along the trees, finding the place where the tiger had disappeared. The trees here were split, branches broken and leaves trampled. "This way." She started into the forest, no hesitation, and Loki scrambled to catch up to her. He was on guard now, listening for the tiniest of sounds to warn him if the tiger was coming. Kyra seemed less cautious, and he really hoped her theory was correct.

"What do you plan on doing when you find her?" he asked. "She's most likely going to try to attack us again the second she sees us."

"Maybe not," Kyra said thoughtfully. She paused, pushing aside a bent branch. "I was thinking…what if she recognized you?"

"We've never met."

"No, but she could still know who you are. I mean, you are Loki the god of mischief after all. You have a reputation, if I'm not mistaken. It would explain why she automatically attacked you. Maybe it's just sort of a natural reaction to you." She smirked at him before pushing through the trees.

"Then perhaps you should be the one to convince her not to attack us." His words were followed up by a low rumbling somewhere up ahead, and he stopped short. Kyra didn't seem to hear it, and she continued forward until Loki snatched the back of her shirt, dragging her back.

"What are you—?" she cut off as the rumble repeated, louder this time. Kyra tripped back into Loki, her back pressing into his chest.

"I thought you weren't afraid of it," he said quietly against her ear.

"I may have overestimated my confidence," she admitted, and he was surprised when she didn't immediately move away from him. Maybe this wasn't such a good plan after all. "Just let me try to talk to her," she finally said, moving away from Loki and toward the source of the rumbling. "But please don't let her eat me if I'm completely wrong about this."

"I won't let her eat you." He put a hand on the hilt of one of his knives as they stepped forward.

The trees hollowed out into an open space, and Loki spotted a small cave built into a rocky outcrop up ahead. It was big enough for the large cat, and the small animal bones lining the grass only confirmed this.

"I mean, I guess she had to eat something," Kyra said, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

"Better them than us."

"Queen Aelsa!" Kyra called out in a loud voice, making Loki jump. "Please, we're here to help you."

Loki tensed as a white paw appeared from the entrance of the cave. He half wanted to snatch Kyra back and run for it, but she stood still, hands held away from her knife. The tiger's head appeared next, horns spiraling upward, piercing blue eyes set on Kyra. Up close and in the daylight, the beast was much larger than Loki had first suspected. The spikes along its back glinted in the sunlight.

"My name is Kyra Winters, and this is Loki of Asgard," Kyra introduced. The tiger's eyes flashed to Loki. A growl roiled up from the tiger's throat, and she bared her fangs. "He's a friend!" Kyra hurried to say, holding out her hands and placing herself between Loki and the tiger. Loki cocked his head. Friend? He wasn't sure if she really meant it or if she was just trying to placate the beast. Friend. Did he have friends? Had he ever? He shook his head, focusing his attention back on the tiger. Now was not the time to ponder whether or not he'd somehow made a friend of his own. Non-enemy was probably a more accurate term for it anyway.

"Whatever you've heard about him, well, okay, so it's probably true, but right now he's here as a friend. Amora tricked both of us and left us to die. We have to stop her. Loki can break her spell on you. I can see through it. That's how I knew it was really you."

The tiger tore its gaze from Loki and refocused its attention on Kyra. Then it sat down before her, tucking its tail over its paws and lowering its head in what could have been a nod.

Kyra turned to Loki, her face a mixture of surprise and relief. "See?" she said. "Told you it would work."

…

"Can you break it?" Kyra asked as Loki joined her finally. Aelsa eyed him warily but made no move to attack. Kyra could see the wavering reflection of the girl behind the illusion, blue eyes frightened.

"Give me a moment," Loki said, reaching out his hands. Aelsa allowed him to place them on her side. "It's a strong spell."

"I can help." At least she thought she could. Maybe. Really, she had no idea, but it seemed polite to offer.

"No, you need to save your strength," Loki told her. "If I can't break this spell, then I'm not sure I have any right to call myself an enchanter."

"You really aren't that enchanting." The words fell out of her mouth before she could really think about them. What was it about him and wanting to spout off every insult she could think of? "Sorry. Not helping."

Loki closed his eyes, and Kyra let him concentrate watching as the tiger flicked her ears, waiting patiently while Loki worked. "Amora has grown quite strong," he said after a moment, frowning in consternation. "I'm not sure I can break her spell." It looked as if it pained him to admit it. "It's too strong, and it shouldn't be."

"Why is Amora suddenly so strong? It doesn't sound like she's always been this strong from the way you speak of her."

Loki stepped away from the tiger. His hands were shaking, and he quickly hid them behind his back. "Something is giving her strength. She was never this strong. She's most likely not even on Alfheim anymore. That should weaken her magic in theory."

Kyra sat down in the grass next to the tiger, flicking aside a bone. "I'm sorry," she said, laying a hand on the cat's downy paw. Aelsa looked down at her, blinking in response. "We'll find a way to free you."

"It might be," Loki said slowly, "that only Amora can break the spell."

Kyra looked up at him, meeting his worried gaze. "Then we have to go back to Asgard. We have to find her and force her to break the spell."

"Easier said than done."

"We need to get out of this forest. Then we can summon the Bifrost. With Aelsa's help, we can force Amora to reverse the spell." Kyra realized how many things could go wrong. Amora wasn't about to give up her power, especially now that she had Asgard within her reach. "I might need your help."

"I'm not sure I'll be of much help," Loki admitted, sounding dejected.

"Just…let's just try," she said wearily.

"Come on then," he said, holding out a hand. "We won't break out of this forest sitting here."

Kyra sighed and took his hand, letting him pull her up. The brief contact sent a spark across her palm—his magic sizzling on his skin. It gave her an idea. She could sense his magic, perceive it like a living thing. Every time they came in contact, she was aware of it, powerful and ancient and like nothing she'd ever felt before. She felt stronger when she could sense it. What if they combined their power to break the illusion of the Infinite Forest? She had no idea if it was possible and would never be able to explain any theories on why it might work. It was just a feeling. A feeling she thought worth pursuing.

She realized she'd been holding onto Loki's hand too long and let go, blushing a little. She turned to the white tiger. "We will break the spell, but for now you'll have to come with us. We're going to get out of this forest."

The tiger rose to her feet in response, flicking her spike-tipped tail to the side. Kyra put a hand on the tiger's shoulder. "I'm sorry this had to happen to you," she said, and the tiger rumbled in a way that sounded almost like a purr.

Kyra led the way back to the clearing with the tower. There was something significant about the tower, she thought. It was the breaking point in the forest—separating them from the constant monotony of the thick trees. Kyra turned to Loki.

"Can we try something?" she asked.

"What did you have in mind?"

She held out her hand. "Just trust me?" He studied her hand for a moment before stepping forward and taking it. It was cool and smooth in hers. His magic thrummed against her skin, and she soaked it in. Loki breathed in sharply. "Did you feel that?"

"What are you doing? It's like I felt a draw on my magic, something tugging on it." Something like distrust flickered in his eyes, but he didn't pull his hand back.

"I want to see if we can use our powers together," she said. "I know my limitations are low. I can't create illusions without blacking out. I seem to be able to break them, but I don't think I have the strength to break out without your help."

"Then let's try together."

Kyra closed her eyes and concentrated. She felt for the illusion, the boundaries of the forest that kept them trapped, constricted. Loki's magic was a warm distraction beside her like an electrical current dancing across her skin. Then something swelled up around them, and she felt something shatter.

"Kyra…" She opened her eyes at Loki's voice. She still gripped his hand, and he made no move to drop it.

Ahead of them a pathway now stood, open and gaping, leading out of the forest and to the castle beyond.

"We did it," Loki said a little breathlessly. There was surprise dancing in his blue-green eyes. They stared at each other for a moment before Aelsa started forward onto the path, giving a little growl to get their attention. Kyra and Loki dropped each other's hands at the same time, and the electrical current was gone. Despite their broken connection, Kyra felt empowered. Instead of the usual draining sensation she felt when she used her abilities, she felt charged as if she'd absorbed some of Loki's magic. She wanted to ask what had happened, but she didn't think Loki knew any more than her. He gave her a curious look as he followed after Aelsa. Kyra hurried to keep up, feeling a rush of relief as they left the forest behind.

The dirt path turned to cobblestones the closer they got to the castle. Aelsa picked up the pace, and Kyra had to jog to keep up. The queen was home though she still held the form of the great tiger.

"Shouldn't we warn her people?" Kyra asked, catching up to Loki.

"I'm not entirely sure what we'd say or if anyone would believe us." He flickered a moment, and Kyra saw he'd taken on the illusion of the guard. He shrugged. "They're not going to trust me," he said in way of response.

"Your reputation really does precede you, doesn't it?"

The sound of sliding metal startled Kyra. She looked up and saw a row of guards standing along one of the walls. They had drawn their swords and were motioning in panic as the tiger waltzed into the city.

"Wait!" Kyra shouted up to them. They ignored her, and a row of archers joined them, steel-tipped arrows pointed directly at the tiger. "Aelsa, stop!" The tiger slid to a stop, looking back at Kyra and then up at the guards. She growled.

"Please stop! That's your queen!" Kyra shouted, trying to get the guards' attention. "She's under a spell!"

"They're not going to listen," Loki said beside her.

"They'll kill her." Kyra watched fearfully as the guards readied themselves to fire. Aelsa stared up at them with sad, blue eyes as if accepting her fate.

"Fire!" the elves shouted at the same moment as Loki shouted, "Open the Bifrost!" Ten deadly arrows came soaring straight at Aelsa. Kyra pulled in a breath and suddenly the world around them erupted.


	17. Sixteen: The Warlock's Eye

**Sixteen – The Warlock's Eye**

Color blinded Kyra for a moment, and then she felt the familiar sensation of the Bifrost. She reached out blindly and felt a hand pull her forward, anchoring her. The trip didn't last long and, when they landed, Kyra's knees gave out. Hands pulled her back up before she could hit the ground. She was standing in the observation room back in Asgard. Loki stood before her, but his eyes were on something behind her. She turned and saw the white tiger lying on the floor, an arrow protruding from her chest.

"No…"

"Watch out!" Skurge was holding a giant battle-axe and charging at the tiger.

"Skurge, wait!" Kyra ran in front of the tiger, and Skurge skidded to a halt. "It's not here to hurt us." She turned to Loki who was disguised as Odin again.

"Tell us news of Asgard," he said, coming forward. "Is the Enchantress here?"

Skurge turned to Loki, eyes widening. "My king, I have not seen the Enchantress, but Queen Aelsa of the light elves is here. She said you were dead. She said not to open the Bifrost to anyone, but I heard you calling."

"That's not Queen Aelsa," Kyra said. "That's the Enchantress." She exchanged a look with Loki. What was her game?

"She said the Enchantress attacked Alfheim and that she barely escaped with her life. She said you died saving her and that it was your last wish that she take over the throne of Asgard in your stead."

"What utter nonsense," Loki muttered.

"Amora is impersonating the queen," Kyra told Skurge. "We have to warn the people before she does any more damage." Before she told everyone Loki was impersonating Odin.

"We need her alive though," Loki said, nodding to the real queen. Kyra gave the big cat a worried glance. "So she can break her spell."

"That arrow is deep. Will Aelsa be okay?" she asked.

Loki knelt down next to the tiger. "It can't stay in when she transforms back," he said. Kyra noticed any scratches he'd gotten on his face had vanished, healed much more quickly than the long cut on her face. She wondered if the elf queen was a quick healer too. "This is going to hurt." He grabbed the arrow and pulled it out in one swift motion. The tiger gave a growl, but there was less blood than Kyra had thought there would be. Aelsa stood, shaking herself off. Skurge was keeping his distance, but he had lowered his battle-axe.

"Come on," Loki said to Kyra and Aelsa. "We need to get to the palace. Don't let anyone leave Asgard," he called back to Skurge.

"How has she been getting into Asgard anyway?" Kyra asked, jogging to keep up with Loki as they started across the rainbow bridge.

"There are other passages in and out of Asgard," he said. "Amora would know of them. She and I spent years trying to find them when we were younger."

Kyra was surprised he would tell her anything about him and Amora, but the thought of her coming and going without them knowing was not a comforting one. She was too comfortable in Asgard, wearing its secrets like a second skin. Kyra kept forgetting she was Asgardian but somehow in the short amount of time she'd been there, Kyra had built up this strong urge to protect the city. Someone like Amora deserved the throne even less than Loki for all his selfishness. Even if he had tricked his way to the throne, he at least had a right to it.

"You must have been a nightmare as a child," she said, her breath hitching as she tried to keep up with his long strides.

"Nothing compared to Thor. I was the quiet, mild-mannered child."

"I find that hard to believe."

"That's because you've never met my brother." Loki cast her a glance. "His pride is incredibly inflated."

"He's not the one writing a play about himself."

"I just thought it would be nice if people remembered me," Loki defended, and she thought she heard a touch of hurt in his voice. "I did die a hero after all."

"A true hero would have died to save people not for the glory of it. And you didn't actually die. Unless you're currently a ghost. You're not a ghost, are you?"

Aelsa let off a low growl, and Kyra clamped her mouth shut.

"I am most certainly not a ghost," Loki retorted, ignoring the tiger. "And I don't have to justify myself to you."

"You do actually. It was a part of our deal, remember?"

Loki looked up at the sky for a moment as if drawing strength. "I suppose taking back the throne from Amora won't be enough." His green cape billowed out behind him as a gust of wind rolled off the sea, torn straight down the middle where the tiger had clawed him.

"It's a start." She didn't really know what she expected of him. She had no right to expect anything, but somehow she seemed to forget that she was mortal and he was a demi-god when she was around him. Perhaps she'd grown entirely too comfortable around him. Something had changed during their time in the Infinite Forest. Something tenuous had formed between them—trust, perhaps. Or, if not trust, some sort of camaraderie. It frightened Kyra, but she realized it thrilled her, too. There was something undeniably enchanting about him. Particularly if she ignored the dozens of red flags. She knew he was dangerous. A manipulator. She knew he'd taken lives without remorse. And yet…and yet there was something more to him than that. Something hidden so deep down inside that she wasn't sure even he was aware of it.

"Perhaps we can discuss your terms when this is all over," he said, and she knew he was humoring her.

"When this is all over, I want a hot bath and a feast thrown in my honor," she muttered. "Do we have a plan though?" They were nearing the end of the rainbow bridge— _finally_ —and she was completely out of breath. Now she understood why Loki always took a horse to the observation dome. "Are we just going to waltz in there and accuse Amora?"

"Once the people see their king is alive and well, they'll know she tricked them."

"They still think she's Aelsa. And she could easily out you. For instance, she could try to claim _you're_ Amora disguised as Odin."

"That's why I have you," Loki said, glancing at her.

Kyra didn't like the idea of that much responsibility resting on her. "But like two people know who I am in Asgard. No one is going to take my word."

"Sif will."

"Cool. So, one person will back me up. How many people live in Asgard?" Kyra wasn't liking this plan. It wasn't really a plan at all. Amora must have thought ahead to this eventuality unless she really thought they would be trapped in the forest back on Alfheim forever.

Loki cast her a look, but she could see he didn't really have a plan. There was uncertainty in his eyes though he tried to disguise it with indifference. "Just trust me," he said, mimicking her earlier words. That, surprisingly, wasn't the problem, but Kyra didn't have the energy to argue.

They made their way into the city, and Kyra found she had a new appreciation for it. She'd always been so focused on her situation that she hadn't really taken the time to look around. How had she not noticed the mountains spanning out along the far border of the city or the forests that held no threats compared to those of Alfheim? Twinkling gold architecture was set off by elaborate gardens and fountains. Everything about the city was beautiful.

She'd like to explore more, she realized. After this was all over, of course. She wondered if Loki would take her. She knew Sif would, but strangely she found herself wanting Loki to show her. Perhaps it would help him prove that he was meant to rule if he showed her his love for the city. So far he seemed much more concerned with the actual throne and who sat on it than his people.

She knew what it was like to think you deserved something more than what you had. She'd spent most of her childhood after her parents died thinking she deserved more. A better family. A happier life. Her parents back. Those didn't seem like unreasonable requests. There was clearly more to Loki than she knew, but she wasn't sure she'd get the chance to find out. That was entirely dependent on him. It surprised her to realize she really did want to learn more about him. He was straight out of mythology and yet just as real as she. But, when this was all over, where would that leave her? If they defeated Amora, sent her to the dungeons or back to where she came from, what would Kyra's role then be? Would Loki send her back to Earth? Would he ignore her, leave her to mill about the palace alone? Maybe once she would have preferred it that way, but now she found the thought of being alone terrifying. When she was left alone, her memories rose like phantoms to the surface, clawing their way up. It was harder to control her fears when she had no one to distract her from them. Perhaps that was all this was: a distraction. It made it easier to forget the nightmares when she had a purpose. Without Amora to cast her illusions, what purpose would Kyra then have?

It was selfish really, to let her purpose be defined by having someone to stand against. Amora needed to be stopped and if that left Kyra without a purpose in Asgard, then so be it. She wasn't Asgardian. She was a millisecond of existence compared to these people. It had been a mistake to feel like she belonged even if she'd only clutched that feeling for a moment.

Loki didn't seem to notice her internal struggle, his eyes fixed on the palace rising up above the city, gold spires glinting in the morning light. The city seemed unusually quiet, she thought. Not that she had a very good idea of this, but there was no one to be seen on the streets. Loki seemed to notice this, too. He slowed his pace and gazed around, hand going to one of his knives.

"It's too quiet," he said. "Something's wrong."

It was frightening to know Amora was loose on the city yet having no idea what awaited them. "Where is everybody?"

Loki didn't answer. He continued on, quickening his pace. Aelsa padded behind him, eyes flitting around as they neared the palace. "I think I know where everyone went," Loki said, stopping so abruptly that Kyra ran straight into him. She shook her head to reorient herself and peered around his arm.

"What on earth?"

The courtyard before the palace was filled with people. There was nothing disorganized or chaotic about it. In fact, the people stood in neat rows, their faces turned toward the palace, unmoving save their cloaks and dresses as a ragged wind tore through the city.

"What's wrong with them?" Kyra asked, her whisper carrying across the courtyard. No one stirred.

"They're under an enchantment," Loki said, his brow furrowed as he surveyed the scene.

"Can Amora do that? Is she that powerful?" There must have been hundreds of people standing there, not moving a muscle. Perhaps they had grossly underestimated Amora's powers.

"She shouldn't be," he said, shaking his head. "This shouldn't be possible. The kind of power it takes to control so many people…" He cut off, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Unless…"

"You know how she's controlling them?" Kyra prodded when he didn't continue.

"There's a powerful object that lies in Odin's vault," Loki started. "With the use of enchantments, it's possible she came to be in possession of it."

"I take it that's bad?"

"There's a particular object that allows its holder to control people's minds. I can think of nothing else strong enough to enchant so many people. In Amora's hands…" He turned to look at Kyra, something like desperation glinting in his eyes. It frightened her. If he was afraid…well, then she had a _very_ good reason to feel the same fear. "I don't know if I can fight off its power."

"What is it?"

"The Warlock's Eye. It's a mystical relic. I'm not even sure how Odin came by it. Very few can resist its enchantment." He turned to look at her. "I've never been tested by its powers before."

"You don't know if you can resist it?" Could she? She half-wished she was back in the Infinite Forest. What were a few scratches compared to mind control? If Amora got Loki under her control… That did not bode well for any of them. Kyra couldn't fight against everyone. She doubted she could win a fight against even the feeblest of Asgardians if he were blindfolded with his hands tied behind his back.

She became aware of Loki's gaze, turning to meet his eyes. His black hair fanned out around his face, a stark contrast to his pale skin. "Kyra, you're the one with the ability to break enchantments."

"Illusions," she corrected. "Enchantments sound like a whole different ballpark."

He blinked, clearly not understanding her reference. "An enchantment is similar to an illusion in that it is something unnatural and something finite. Eventually it will end whether it breaks or fails. You're strong. Stronger than a mortal should be. You might be the only one who can stop her."

Kyra took a step back. "That's a lot of responsibility," she told him. "I'm not ready to take on some ancient artifact that's probably been around millenniums longer than me. What if I black out? What if I can't fight it?"

Loki took a step toward her, and she half-expected him to insist she go in there. She hoped he wouldn't resort to threats. Instead, he said, "I'm not good at asking for help." He gave her a pleading look, brow furrowed. "I can't do this alone." Maybe he was a master of manipulation, but he sounded genuine, and she knew in that moment she would help him despite her fears.

Kyra regarded him for a moment. "What if we do it together? Like when we broke through the Infinite Forest."

"That might work."

"Together then?" She held out a hand, swallowing down her nerves. Loki eyed her hand for a moment as if calculating the probabilities of them making it out alive. Then he reached out and grasped it. She felt the same tickle of power she'd felt before, an awareness of his magic. She only hoped she'd be strong enough to help both of them withstand the power of the Warlock's Eye.

They moved past the unmoving people, Aelsa padding behind them. "You should wait outside," Loki said to the cat. "The Warlock's Eye might affect you, too, and we don't need you under Amora's control." Aelsa let off a low growl, and Kyra imagined she'd like nothing better than to swat the Enchantress with her claws. Instead, she walked back to the entrance of the courtyard to wait.

The doors were open onto the throne room, and they stepped inside to find it nearly empty. Amora sat in the throne at the end of the room, and Kyra sensed no guise. She didn't need one when she'd enchanted the Asgardians. Her heart jolted when she saw Lady Sif standing by her side, midnight-blue eyes staring straight ahead. The Warriors Three were nowhere to be seen, and Kyra feared for them.

"So you got out." A heavy object lay in Amora's lap. It was made of gold metal much the same as the architecture around Asgard, and in the shape of an eye. Inside the hollow middle sat a glowing orb like an iris and pupil. Kyra felt her gaze drawn to it like a moth to a flame. She snapped her gaze up to Amora and saw amusement twinkling there.

Amora took in their linked hands and chuckled. "The mortal thinks she's more powerful than an ancient relic. Than me, even?"

"You're not going to win this, Amora," Loki said.

"Am I not?" Loki's guise of Odin flickered and died. Kyra felt the magic fade and gripped his hand harder as if she could keep him from the Eye's control by clinging on tighter. "You see," Amora said, standing, the Eye clutched in her grip, "I'm used to getting my way." She took a step toward them, and Loki gritted his teeth.

"Fight her," Kyra whispered.

"For the last few centuries, I've spent my time in banishment. A nobody. It's time that changed. Alfheim was well and good, but some of Aelsa's people were getting suspicious, and she was just too _sweet_. She's much better as a tiger. I dare say it gave her some bite."

Breaking Aelsa's enchantment was looking more and more impossible, and Kyra could feel Loki struggling beside her. And then… The power of the Warlock's Eye wrapped itself around her. It was like a warm blanket, welcoming and comforting. She wanted to sink into it, let go of the weight she carried on her shoulders. It would be so easy. No more struggle, no more control, just bliss. The weight of the world would be taken right out of her hands. She would know peace.

Loki's hand began to slip from hers, and she snapped back to reality. "No!" She pushed back against the power, and it receded like a snap leaving her cold and empty.

A frown turned down the corners of Amora's painted lips. "You _are_ strong. But is he?" She turned her attention to Loki. Kyra could feel his magic fading as the enchantment overtook him. If Amora gained control over him, then Kyra wouldn't stand a chance. Her mind whirled, and she did the only thing she could think of. She grabbed her knife, drawing it from the sheath and slicing one of Amora's arms. The Enchantress cried out, her grip on the Eye loosening.

Kyra felt Loki come back into control. "We need to go. _Now_ ," she said. She dragged him from the room as Amora grabbed for the Eye. They kept running until Kyra was thoroughly lost in the maze of hallways. She stopped, leaning up against the wall, finally dropping Loki's hand.

"It's official," she told him, trying to catch her breath. "We need a better plan."


	18. Seventeen: Mind Games

**Author's Note:** You guys are awesome about reviews! Thank you so much! I don't think I've gotten a review on any of my other stories for over a year it seems like. So I just wanted to assure you that even though this particular story line is beginning to come to a close, I have much more planned. This story is going to be very long, I can assure you. Kyra and Loki have a lot more adventures ahead of them.

* * *

 **Seventeen** **–** **Mind Games**

"What happened to working together?" Loki snapped at Kyra. They had been so close, the Eye within their grasp. If he hadn't been so weak… He'd felt the Eye's power pulling him under at once, too strong to resist. He wasn't used to feeling so weak, so powerless. He despised it.

"I'm not the one who fell under her spell so quickly," Kyra matched his tone, fiery eyes glaring him down. "If I'd stayed any longer she would have had us both, and then she would have won."

Loki took a second to calm himself. "We need a better plan."

"No shit." Kyra turned on her heels and started down the hall. Loki hurried to catch up, snagging her elbow with one hand. She wrenched her arm away.

"I'm sorry," he said, holding up his hands. "I know of a place we can be safe for awhile."

"Lead the way," she said, moving aside to let him lead.

He led her to a wing of the palace where he used to go as a child when he wanted to get away from Thor or Odin. You could only get to it from a dusty storage room where a hidden trapdoor blended in with the dimly lit ceiling. He tugged on the string that connected to the door. A rope ladder lay above, and Loki pulled on it with his mind, unrolling it down so they could climb up. Kyra coughed at the dust. It had been a long time since Loki had visited the room. A long time since he'd had a reason to. He'd outgrown running away from his problems. Now he just cast an illusion if he wanted to hide from them.

The tower room was round, the shape of the rounded pillars that made up the palace's architecture. There was an open archway that led out onto a narrow parapet. He used to gaze out at the city when he was a child, envisioning it as being his when he was old enough to rule. That was back when he thought he might have a chance at ruling. Now he knew better. Odin had always meant for Thor to rule. He'd once said that both his sons were born to rule but that only one would ascend to the throne of Asgard. Loki should have appreciated the mastery of Odin's manipulation. Technically Loki did have a right to a throne, but it wasn't Asgard's, and he had no plans to return to Jotunheim to claim that throne. It was a cold, unforgiving world that he'd been born into. Asgard was his home through and through whether it wanted him or not.

It seemed strange being back here after all those years. The space was still filled with the trinkets he'd brought up. Dusty pillows were scattered in a corner, a stack of books haphazardly piled next to them. There was a table full of Thor's things that Loki had stolen and hidden away and forgotten to give back.

"We should be safe here awhile," he told Kyra. "Not even Amora knows of this place." Though they'd spent hours discovering new crevices and corners of the palace and the city long ago, this had been his place and his place alone.

"Well, that was a disaster," Kyra said. "Why did we think that was going to work?"

Loki sighed, leaning against the rounded wall. "We don't have many options." He clenched his fists, remembering how strong the call of the Eye had been. He'd been powerless against it but for Kyra's own abilities counteracting it. It was never a good feeling to realize you weren't as powerful as you thought you were. Amora was a formidable enemy but with the Eye in her hands...he wasn't sure how they were going to get the upper hand. "You weren't half bad with that knife," he said, a small smile quirking his lips.

Kyra shrugged. "I guess I learned something after all. I didn't think she'd be expecting that. Maybe we should have grabbed the Eye from her."

"I don't think she's going to give it up that easily."

"And we just left Aelsa out there. Do you think Amora can control her?" For never having met the elf queen, Kyra was awfully worried about her. Did all mortals worry that much?

Kyra reached for one of the dusty books, blowing off a layer before opening it. "You liked to read."

"I still do." He hadn't touched those books in years, preferring the libraries in the palace these days. These had been his favorites when he was a child, and he had read them over and over again. "When this is all over, I'll show you the library." She'd been in Odin's private study though he'd had her cornered and scared at the time, so she might not have seen much of it. He felt a stab of guilt at his behavior toward her. It hadn't really been necessary in the end.

Kyra was giving him a curious look. "What?"

"I was just wondering what would happen when Amora is gone. You won't need someone to watch for illusions."

So she was questioning her role. She thought her existence in Asgard was directly tied to how useful she could be to him. And maybe it had been for a time. "I suppose that's up to you," he said thoughtfully. It would be useful to have her around, and he wanted to learn more about her abilities. They fascinated him as well as frightened him. If she left, he'd never find the answers he needed.

"I think I would like to stay," she said slowly as if disbelieving of her own words. "There's nothing left for me on Earth, and I still have so many questions."

Perhaps their paths were not to diverge just yet. Loki pushed away from the wall and walked out onto the narrow parapet. He'd never been afraid of heights, but there was still something about the plunging drop that set his nerves on fire. He felt Kyra come up next to him, heard the sharp intake of breath. He wasn't surprised the girl who was frightened of horses didn't like heights.

"It's stunning," she said finally, tempering her nerves enough to stay though she clenched her hands around the wall of the parapet for support. The afternoon sun lit the water orange, and the far-off forests and mountains looked as if they'd been glazed in honey. The city itself lay deathly still, and he missed the buzz of the people as they went about their days. He used to love watching them from up here, no bigger than ants. It made him feel powerful to stand above them all. Now he felt humbled by how much Amora had taken from him in so short a time. "There's nowhere like this on Earth."

Loki bit back a response about Earth being subpar. "I'm lucky to call it home."

He sensed her eyes on him and turned to fix her with a questioning look. "You're quite good at hiding your emotions, but I can see straight through you sometimes."

"Oh?" He hadn't meant to be so transparent.

"Right now I see how much you love this city, and I don't think it's just because of the throne or the title. It's your home. You're passionate about it." She shrugged, turning back to the city but not before he saw something sad flitting behind her eyes. From what he'd gleaned of her life, she'd never really had anywhere to belong. Perhaps he hadn't always felt accepted in Asgard, but at least he'd had it. He'd had his family, too, despite all their differences. Of course he didn't have them anymore. His mother was dead. Thor was on Midgard playing hero with his mismatched group of humans. Odin was enjoying retirement. It hadn't felt lonely at first. It had felt like a victory, but now… Now that Amora had taken that from him, he realized how fleeting his achievement had been.

"We'll get it back." He started when Kyra put a hand on his arm. "She hasn't won yet. So what do we do to make sure she doesn't win at all?"

"We need to take her by surprise. Get the Eye away from her." Loki paced back into the room. "I don't know if my illusions will work in its presence." His Odin illusion had failed the moment they'd entered the throne room.

"Amora is expecting us to work together," Kyra said slowly, tapping her fingers against her legs. "If we want to take her by surprise, we need to do something unexpected."

"What did you have in mind?" Amora knew Loki well. It would take a lot to surprise her. She didn't know Kyra, however.

"What if I convince Amora you threatened me into helping you. It's not entirely unbelievable." He lifted an eyebrow, and she shrugged.

"What about that act just now?" he asked. "You dragged me from that room so she couldn't control me."

"If there's one thing we can rely on with Amora—or any immortal, really—it's that she will always underestimate a mortal."

She had a point there, but Loki wasn't sure if it was enough to beat Amora. She'd be suspicious and rightly so after Kyra had knifed her. "She's not going to let you anywhere near that Eye," he said.

"It's not about overpowering her. It's about out-thinking her," Kyra said, flicking her braid back over her shoulder. "I thought that would be your forte." Despite the gravity of their situation, she still found a way to push him. How she'd changed from the timid, frightened girl who he'd locked in the dungeons. That had only been a short time ago, but already she'd gained a confidence that outshone any doubt. Perhaps the mortal world had been poisoning her or whatever pills human doctors had given her. In Asgard, she seemed to fit into her own skin better. "You're always saying how brute force is so passé and using your brain is a better trait for a ruler," she continued when he didn't reply.

"And Amora is queen of out-thinking people." Kyra didn't know Amora. Not like he did. She didn't know just how cunning the Enchantress could be.

"Knowing more about her would help me." She said the words gently, but the memories that pervaded Loki's mind were anything but gentle.

"Amora has a way of getting what she wants by stepping on as many people as possible. She has this idea that it's her divine right to get whatever she wants."

"Who does that remind me of," Kyra muttered, running her fingers over some of the trinkets Loki had stolen from his brother. She frowned, picking up a golden trophy. "First place tree hurling?" She turned to him with a lifted brow.

"That may or may not belong to my brother," he said with a shrug. "I never did get around to returning it. He didn't need his ego inflated further."

"Are all these his things?" Kyra asked. There was a note of laughter in her voice that surprised him. He thought she might disapprove of him pilfering items that didn't belong to him.

"Most of them, yes." The brooch belonged to his mother. He'd completely forgotten about it, but his heart stirred as Kyra ran a finger over its dusty surface. They'd had an argument about Loki's misbehavior in school—petty tricks and such, harmless but frowned upon. He'd taken the brooch that Odin had gifted her. She'd never once mentioned his disappearance, and he realized now she'd probably been waiting for him to return it on his own. What a disappointment he'd been.

"Are you a kleptomaniac or did you just like to annoy him?"

"Perhaps a little of both. It's rather easy to steal when you can cast illusions and make things disappear." He hadn't done it for the thrill of it. He knew he could get away with it. It was more out of spite than anything, and he realized he hadn't, perhaps, changed as much as he'd like to believe.

"You're avoiding the topic." Kyra turned to face him.

Because it was a painful one. A humiliating one. Because he didn't want to talk to her about it. He'd never told anyone the true extent of his and Amora's past. "Nothing I can tell you will help us defeat her," he said instead.

"Fine," she snapped. "Why don't you just stay here pining over whatever pride she stepped on while I handle this." She made for the trapdoor, but he caught her arm, slinging her around to face him. Her dark eyes sparked, angry and indignant. "Would you quit grabbing me?" she asked, her voice a harsh whisper.

"I'm trying to keep you from running off to do something stupid, but maybe I should just let you go and get yourself killed." Why was she so exasperating? Everything had been nice and calm before she'd come here. His life was consistent and predictable even if he'd been living a lie. Then she'd come and shaken it all up. He supposed Amora had done that more than Kyra. Loki would be dead if not for the mortal girl standing before him.

"Suddenly you care?" she scoffed. He really had done a good job of making her think he didn't.

Did he? Care? It was a foreign concept. He'd stopped caring when his mother had died. She had been the one constant in his life. The one person he knew genuinely cared about him.

"I'm not sure we're even yet." She'd saved him three times now, a truly embarrassing amount.

She gave him a knowing look. "Right. Because that's all it is. You don't want to owe me any favors. All I asked for was the truth, and you gave me a lie. You do know something that can help us defeat her."

"Is that the favor you're asking for?" he asked, his words coming out in a sigh. Her skin was warm under his grip. He was afraid if he let her go then she'd run off to face Amora alone.

She blinked, long lashes covering her dark eyes a moment. Maybe he'd been distracted before—maybe more so now—but he hadn't realized how lovely she was. Maybe it was the fire burning in her eyes, maybe the dark hair and irises against tawny skin. He let go of her arm. Maybe it was better she ran off. He forced his mind to forget everything but her irritating ability to constantly drive him crazy. She stayed.

"I know better than to ask for that," she finally said. "And I'm not going to."

"Then what do you want?" She wanted something from him. Her anger was directed at him when there was someone much more suited for her fury awaiting them downstairs on his throne. Her lips parted a moment, and her gaze narrowed as she scrutinized him. He found his eyes falling to her lips and forced himself to drag them back up to her eyes.

"It doesn't matter what I want. Right now your people need your help. I'm doing this for them, not you." As if he thought she'd put herself at risk for him. She had already though, had she not? "Let me go to her. Let me pledge allegiance to her. I just need to get close enough to the Eye–"

"She'll never let you get close, I told you."

"Then we force it from her." Frustration welled in her voice.

"Are you planning on attacking her again because that won't work twice."

"No. But we're forgetting the best weapon we have in our arsenal," she told him. "Aelsa."

"Amora most likely has her under her control by now." Amora would love that. Making Aelsa her pet.

"Then I break her enchantment on Aelsa. I broke the enchantment on the forest. I can do it again."

" _We_ broke the enchantment," he corrected. "As I recall, you needed my magic."

"Then lend it to me again."

"She'll have me under her spell the second I set foot in that room." Loki began to pace. He didn't see how this plan could possibly work.

"Then don't set foot in that room. Your enchantments are strong. I've seen them, felt them. You can lend me some of your power from afar." He didn't know if what she was asking could work. "It'll work," she said as if reading his thoughts. "It has to."

"Fine. We'll try it."

"It'll work," Kyra repeated, and Loki wasn't sure if she was trying to reassure him or herself.

…

Kyra tried to calm herself as she walked, rubbing her sweaty palms on her pant legs. Her footsteps echoed on the stone floor. She took a deep breath before entering the throne room. Amora still sat in the throne, and Kyra saw with a jolt that Aelsa had joined her. The tiger sat obediently by her side, and Amora stroked her bowed head with her long fingernails.

"So you came back," Amora said, turning her gaze to Kyra. The Eye sat in her lap, but Amora made no move to try to control Kyra again.

"I came here of my own accord. I don't serve Loki, if that's what you think." That much was true at least. "I'm tired of him using me." She let a hint of pleading enter her voice. "Ever since I came here, he's been telling me what to do, manipulating me and threatening me. He just wants to use me for my powers."

Amora looked interested but not entirely convinced. Her green eyes watched Kyra keenly. "How like him," she said, a hint of resentment in her tone. "He always did like to control people."

"You've bested him," Kyra said, meeting Amora's eyes.

"I have." Amora sounded pleased. "He likes to think he's so clever, but he's become predictable."

"He wanted me to get the Eye. I told him I would to get away from him, but I have no intention of getting it for him." She took a step and then another until she was standing before Amora. She tried to ignore Sif standing motionless to Amora's left, blank eyes staring straight ahead. "To be honest, I'd like nothing more than to see him pay for what he's done. He attacked my world, killed my people, tried to rule us. Let me join you. I can help you make sure he never gets this throne."

"I'm not sure I believe you," Amora said, grasping the Eye in both hands and standing. Kyra forced herself not to take a step back. "You and Loki looked pretty close a few minutes ago." Was Kyra imagining it or did a flicker of jealously pass over Amora's face?

"I did what was asked of me to survive," Kyra told her. "This isn't my world. I'm basically a prisoner."

"I don't see any ropes binding your hands."

"You and I both know that's not the only way to keep someone a prisoner. He threatened my life. I'm nothing to him. Please let me help you. All I want is to go home to Earth." Kyra had learned to be a good actress living in foster homes. Usually it was to hide whatever emotions she was really feeling, but now she let them out, mustering some tears. "I thought Loki was my best shot at survival, at getting home, but then I realized it was all a lie. When I'm of no further use to him, he's going to cast me back into the dungeons." While she'd been talking, Kyra had been edging toward Aelsa. The tiger paid her no mind, and Amora didn't seem to notice.

She pondered Kyra's words, the Eye still firmly grasped in her hands. She didn't try to use it on Kyra again, and she was grateful for that. She didn't think she had the energy to fight of the Eye's power _and_ free Aelsa. "Tell me how you have powers, and I'll consider letting you join me," Amora requested. She was wary of Kyra. The realization surprised her, gave her strength. She stepped back a pace, closer to Aelsa.

"I don't know," she said. "I honestly don't know that. All my life I was told to take pills to make me normal. Antipsychotics, antidepressants. I was told there was something wrong with me and the little white and blue pills would fix me. When I came here, I realized I wasn't broken after all. But I don't know what I am. I don't know how or why."

Amora pursed her lips, striding toward the throne and setting the Eye down. Was she beginning to trust Kyra? "It must be so frightening having all that power and not knowing how you came have it." Her tone was soft, sympathetic. Kyra tensed. Something didn't feel right. "A power like yours would be coveted, you know. It's not too useful being able to cast illusions if a mere human is able to see straight through them or cast spells when she can break them." Kyra said nothing. Amora reached out a pale hand and gripped Kyra's chin. Her fingers were cold, and Kyra forced herself not to pull away. "What makes you so special?"

"I don't know."

Amora gave her a vicious smile. "Then maybe we should find out." She dug her nails into Kyra's jaw and slammed her other hand into her forehead. Kyra's head exploded with pain, and her vision went black. Then the memories began.


	19. Eighteen: Shattered Illusions

**Eighteen – Shattered Illusions**

It was agony. Pure, unbridled agony. Kyra thought she heard screaming but she didn't know if it was her. All she could see was black and then… She opened her eyes and she was a child again.

…

"They're offering us a chance, David."

Kyra was four. She was coloring a picture of farm animals at the dining room table while her parents spoke in hushed voices in the kitchen.

"I don't trust them."

"They say they've changed, that they're not the same Hydra from the 40s."

"And you believe them?" There was exasperation in her dad's voice. Kyra scribbled pink onto the piglet on the page, veering drastically outside the lines. She hadn't paid a bit of attention to this conversation at the time, but now she watched on like a phantom lurking in the corner, hanging on very word.

"Our work could change lives. Imagine it: soldiers armed with psychic abilities, not just weapons." Her mom was impassioned, waving her hands about like she did when she was particularly excited about something.

"Some might argue those powers don't belong to humans."

"The world is in chaos, David. Every day terrorists are hurting more and more people. There are shootings and hostage situations. What if we can put an end to all that? What if we can stop it? Would you really just walk away from that?"

"Sonya…"

"No. I'm not listening to it. We're this close to achieving a perfect serum. If the university hadn't cut our funding…" She flung her dark hair over her shoulder, and the waves splayed over her back.

"They saw the potential for catastrophe in what we were doing," Kyra's dad said, walking over to her mom and putting his hands on her arms. "Our work in Hydra's hands is dangerous."

"And the world is dangerous without it. They're not asking us to sign in blood. We do our work; they support us financially. We cut ties and move on."

David sighed. "It's never that easy, Sonya. Think about Kyra."

"I am." Sonya pulled away. "I'm thinking about her future and the kind of world I want her to live in. We can give her that, David. I'm accepting their offer."

…

A year passed. Kyra was running around the backyard with a worn hobbyhorse a neighbor had given her. She'd always been terrified of real horses. When her parents had once taken her to a carnival with pony rides, she'd burst into tears the second they placed her on the pony's back. To the pony's credit, he'd stood docilely as Sonya had pulled Kyra back down and into her arms again. Now, her mother stood at the window. Kyra couldn't hear her voice. The windows were closed against the chill of fall, but she could tell her mom was angry. A man Kyra didn't recognize appeared in the window. He looked at her, and Kyra felt an overwhelming sense of wrong. Her mom looked over, and her eyes widened. Fear. It wasn't anger; it was fear. After that, the man had left in a hurry, and Sonya had come outside and ushered Kyra back into the house, putting on cartoons and shutting her in the entertainment room with a bowl of snacks.

A crash outside the room startled Kyra. She heard a strangled sob and then the crunch of glass. She set down her snack bowl and walked to the door, opening it a crack to peer out. Her mother had the broom out and was sweeping up a pile of broken glass.

"Mama?" Kyra asked, her voice cautious.

Sonya looked over at her. "It's okay, baby. I just knocked a glass down. Go back to your cartoons."

Kyra went back to the chair, leaving the door slightly ajar. She could hear her mom sweeping up the glass and then the slam of the door. "We can't let this happen!" Kyra's dad was in a rage. "We have to leave now before we get in too far. What they're asking…"

"We can't back out now, David. What they're asking us to do is necessary. I don't like it any more than you, but the only way we're going to be able to progress is if we have someone to help us."

"Someone to experiment on, you mean. Don't try to call it anything else. Hydra is asking us to experiment on a human being–"

"David!" There was a pause, and then the door clicked shut. Five-year-old Kyra was more interested in her cartoons than her parents' words, but the Kyra watching the memory was horrified. Some of her recent dreams came flooding back to her. Had there been a body? Cold, dead eyes opening to look straight at her. She shuddered. What had happened in this house? She'd always thought her childhood had been happy and normal up until her parents' deaths, but now she wasn't so sure. What if it had all been an illusion? She'd already blocked a good portion of her memories. Maybe her mind had replaced bad memories with good, negative feelings with positive if only to protect itself. Had anything been real? Had anything been happy? She sank to the floor as the vision began to fade.

…

"Why can't I go outside?" Kyra asked her mom. Sonya looked older even though only eight months had passed. There were dark spots under her eyes like bruises, and silver strands were beginning to show in her black hair. She sent a frantic look at Kyra from where she was peering through a slit in the blinds. The curtains were shut tight in the living room.

"It's dangerous," she said, her voice rough. "Stay inside. Why don't you go play?"

"I don't want to play inside." Kyra knew she shouldn't throw a fit. She'd just turned six a few weeks ago, and she was supposed to be more mature. But her mom had pulled her out of school unexpectedly two days before and hadn't let her outside since. "I want to go outside!" It was sunny and nice, one of the last days of summer before autumn took hold.

"No. Kyra, I need you to stay inside."

Kyra opened her mouth to argue, but then the phone rang. "Go up to your room, no arguments," Sonya said, reaching for the phone. Kyra stomped upstairs and down the hall as her mom took the phone call. She'd been here before, she realized. Been in this memory. She knew six-year-old her kept walking past her room, that she noticed the open door to the lab, that she pushed it open and stepped inside.

Then she was in the lab, reaching out to the refrigerator that she knew held nothing but nightmares. Cold air rushed out to meet her as she pulled the door open. The details came rushing back. The man in the freezer. The monster. Bits of flesh and hair missing, one eye milky white, the other blue though they remained closed at first. Kyra could see her younger self's doubt, could see the fear. She knew she shouldn't have been there no matter how mad she was at her mom. She couldn't unsee this monster. The man's eyes opened, and both Kyras screamed.

Kyra slammed the door shut as she heard her mom's voice call from downstairs. "Kyra?" She wasn't supposed to be in here. Her mom would ground her for a year if she caught Kyra inside her lab. Kyra bolted for the door, shutting it softly behind her and sprinting for her room as her mom's footsteps hurried up the stairs. She threw herself on her bed and tried to slow her galloping heart.

"Kyra, honey, did you scream?" Sonya asked, entering Kyra's room.

"No." Kyra didn't turn around. Let her mom think she was still mad. She heard Sonya sigh and then walk away. The door to the lab rattled and then Sonya made her way back downstairs. Kyra pulled the blankets over her head and held her stuffed dog as tightly as she could.

Kyra was unprepared when glanced at the calendar in six-year-old Kyra's room and realized it was the day her parents died. How long had she been under Amora's spell? Kyra had been so wrapped up in her memories that she'd forgotten Amora. She'd forgotten the Warlock's Eye, and Amora's spell over Asgard. She needed to focus. She didn't want to relive this night but… This might be her only chance to recover her memories. Did she want to live the rest of her life in doubt, not knowing how or why her parents had died? Did she want to live the rest of her life not knowing what she was or how she could break and cast illusions?

The memory began to shift, and Kyra didn't know if she was ready for what came next. Then she felt another presence. Something warm and familiar, electrical and enticing.

" _I'm losing you, Kyra_." Loki was reaching out to her, his magic wrapping around her, fighting off Amora's grip just enough so that Kyra felt aware of herself again. " _Focus_."

" _I need to know what happened_ ," she told him. She didn't know if he could hear.

" _You need to stop Amora. If you don't now, then she'll win._ "

She could refuse. She could let Amora keep unraveling the mysteries of Kyra's past. But at what cost? Loki was right; Amora needed to be stopped. She let Loki's magic strengthen her. She reached a hand out and though she still stood inside her childhood room, she could feel the white tiger's fur outside her memories. She clung to it and focused on breaking Amora's spell. Amora's fingernails were digging into her head, and Kyra felt a drop of blood slide down her face.

Loki's magic grew stronger, and she embraced it like an old friend, letting her own abilities work in sync. Kyra felt the Eye's power over Aelsa break like a chain. Amora seemed aware of what she'd done because she let go of Kyra who fell to her knees on the cold, stone floor, knees bruising on impact. She opened her eyes and was back in the throne room in time to see the white tiger leap over her and pin Amora to the floor. The Warlock's Eye skittered out of Amora's grasp, and Kyra dragged herself to her feet, lifting the heavy relic.

"Your rule is over," she told Amora. She could feel the magic of the Eye thrumming in her hands. Sif still stood like a statue. Before she had a chance to release her, Loki was at her side.

"Are you okay?" he asked her, eyes wide with what might have been concern if Kyra didn't know better.

"I'm okay," Kyra told him, forcing a smile that came out as more of a wince. She tried not to think of the memories that had been left hanging or the answers waiting to burst from her lips. "You'd better guise yourself again," she told him. "I'll release your people."

His lip quirked up a little, but he said nothing, changing back into Odin before her eyes though she could see straight through the guise. Kyra turned back to Sif.

"How do I release them?" she asked Loki.

"Just let them go," he said, putting a hand over hers where it shook from the effort of holding the Eye. It was heavy but more than that, she could feel the weight of its magic. She realized in that moment that whatever Loki had done to gain the throne, he'd never controlled people like this. He hadn't taken away their free will. _He did when he tried to rule Earth_ , she reminded herself. Another voice in her head said, _He's changed_. She didn't know which to listen to. Instead, she focused on releasing the people from the Eye's power. The white iris of the stone glowed brighter a moment and then faded. Sif blinked, looking dazed for a moment before her gaze settled on Kyra. Kyra handed Loki the Eye and hurried over to her friend.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

Sif blinked a few times and then nodded, taking in the scene before her. Her eyes widened a little at the sight of the giant tiger pinning Amora to the floor.

"I am now."

Kyra threw her arms around her friend. "I'm glad you're safe," she said. "Amora could have killed you."

Sif hugged her back. "How did you break the spell?" she asked. "I thought you were in Alfheim." Her eyes flitted up to Loki who appeared as Odin to her. "Aelsa came and told us you were dead. I didn't believe her when she said you'd wanted her to take the throne."

"It's a long story," Kyra said, pulling back and looking at Loki. He watched her intently as if waiting to see if she'd tell Sif who he really was. Kyra gave him a small smile. "Odin and I were tricked and trapped there. Amora had taken Aelsa's place using illusions. She cursed Aelsa and turned her into that tiger."

Outside Asgard's people were coming back to themselves. The guards rushed into the room. "My king!" they exclaimed when they saw the illusion of Odin.

"I'm still alive," he said, waylaying their surprise. He turned back to Amora who was no longer guised. She scowled up at Kyra and Loki, fury in her eyes. "Release Aelsa," Loki told her.

"Or what?" she asked, clinging to the last vestiges of her pride. Aelsa let the claws in the paw holding down Amora slide out just a little.

"We could kill you. That would pretty effectively take care of your spell," Loki said to her. Kyra didn't think he was lying, and Amora seemed to think the same.

"Fine." She turned to the tiger crouched over her, and suddenly the tiger began to shrink, claws turning into fingernails, fur turning into glossy white hair and pearly white skin. Aelsa knelt before them on the floor, and Loki motioned for the guards to grab Amora.

"Take her to the dungeons," he commanded, and the guards grabbed Amora and dragged her roughly to her feet. She said nothing as she was dragged away, but Kyra could tell she was silently fuming.

Kyra knelt down to help Aelsa to her feet. The elf queen was shaking from the transformation. There was a partially healed wound on her shoulder from the spear, but she looked all right. "You did it," she said, standing shakily, leaning on Kyra's arm. "Both of you." She blinked at Odin, confusion flitting over her face. "King Odin," she said finally, "you have my eternal gratitude."

He bowed his head to her. "And you have mine," he said softly.

"I must return to my people before they march on Asgard," she said.

"Let us help you," Kyra offered as the queen wobbled.

"Kyra, you have done enough," Aelsa said, taking Kyra's face gently in her hands. "You have the heart of a warrior and the wisdom of an immortal." Her eyes flitted to Loki. "And perhaps I misjudged a certain immortal. Either that or you bring out the best in him."

Kyra's cheeks colored, and she stuttered. "I don't know about that…"

Aelsa gave her a smile that said volumes and left Kyra confused and flustered. "I will come back to give my proper thanks," she told them. "For now let me right what Amora sent into turmoil."

"At least let Lady Sif ride with you to the Bifrost," Loki offered.

"Of course." Sif took Aelsa's arm. "She will be in good hands." Aelsa squeezed Kyra's hand before Sif led her out of the palace. Kyra could hear the confused Asgardians outside.

"You should go talk to your people," she told Loki, turning to face him.

He hesitated, looking as if he wanted to say something to her. She waited, hating how empty she felt without his magic mingling with hers. "Go," she told him, taking the choice to say something more out of his hands.

He watched her a moment longer before turning and striding out to meet his people. That left Kyra alone to her thoughts. She felt sapped as if her memories had drained her of all her energy. Her mind was reeling from the memories she'd relived and clamoring for the remainder of them. She unconsciously turned in the direction that the guards had taken Amora. She had the ability to give Kyra her memories back. But would she after Kyra had thwarted her plan? Not likely. Kyra shook her head. That was a terrible idea. She wanted nothing from Amora, and nothing from Amora would come without a cost.

She realized she hadn't been alone in days. Instead of feeling relieved, she felt a sense of isolation creep over her. She didn't know what to do now that the danger had passed. She felt purposeless as she had felt for most of her life. She could see Loki outside the throne room, his people surrounding him, glad of the king's return. She could see the love on their faces, the compassion. Even if they thought he was Odin, Loki basked in it. He loved the attention, loved feeling important. She felt a twinge of jealousy for a moment but quickly stifled it.

She didn't want to go back to her room, so she found herself heading toward Odin's study where Loki had once quartered her and threatened her. The room didn't exactly hold good memories, but being surrounded by books was better than being alone. The room was as she remembered it, books lining the shelves and piled on the tables. The grate in the fireplace was clean and ready for a fire. She remembered how Loki had conjured fire back in the Infinite Forest. She wondered if she could create such an illusion. There were so many questions that might never be answered now. She looked down at her hands and wondered, not for the first time, what she was.

When Loki entered the room, she was still standing there though she couldn't have said for how long. "Kyra." His voice was gentle, but she still jumped, turning around to face him. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Did Amora hurt you?" He reached out, and she stumbled back a step before stopping. She saw a flicker of hurt pass through his eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said. "No. Not really. I'm fine." She turned away, but Loki stepped in front of her, leaning closer to study the wounds Amora had inflicted. The blood had dried on Kyra's face, but the cuts Amora's sharp fingernails had inflicted stung. He frowned but didn't try to touch her again.

"I'm fine," she repeated. She could tell he wanted to ask her about the memories Amora had unveiled. Kyra couldn't bring herself to put them in words. "I just need to rest. I'm sorry; I shouldn't have come here." She moved for the door, and he didn't try to stop her. She half wished he would, but he let her go without another word.


	20. Nineteen: Truth Will Out

**Author's Note:** I felt bad for not posting in awhile, so have another chapter! Also you guys should, if you haven't already, check out my best friend blackinkonbluelines and her Loki story, Black Ribbons. It's really good! We worked on our stories yesterday and were so good about not getting distracted!

* * *

 **Nineteen – Truth Will Out**

After a long bath, Kyra tried to sleep. The serving girl had dutifully brought her a tray laden with food, but she'd picked at it despite her hunger. Now she lay awake in bed, reliving her memories over and over. What had happened that night? She knew the night her parents had died from newspaper articles. Her foster families had never spoken of it, and she couldn't remember anything of what had happened. For a while she'd thought she could live without knowing the truth, but she decided to stop lying to herself and admit that she couldn't. She needed to know.

She dressed in leggings and a tunic top that belted at the waist, letting her long, black hair fall in waves down her back. Her boots were soundless on the marble floors as she made her way down to the dungeons. It wasn't a place she'd ever wanted to find herself again, and yet here she was. In search of Amora. Probably not her best plan. She stopped short when she saw two guards standing at the doors of the prison. She wasn't sure why it hadn't occurred to her that the dungeons would be guarded. She thought for a moment. An illusion. She needed an illusion. She could become a guard like Loki did, but then she would have to answer questions. What if she could cast an illusion to make herself invisible? Chances were she'd pass out trying, but she had to at least try.

Kyra closed her eyes and focused on creating the illusion. At first nothing happened. It wasn't easy, and it was particularly difficult when you didn't really believe you could do it. She thought of Loki's magic, the sensation of it mingling with hers. She wasn't sure what she had was magic, but she didn't know what else to call it. She focused. She believed. When she opened her eyes, she could tell the illusion had worked. Instead of feeling drained like she usually did after casting an illusion, she felt empowered. She fairly glowed with power and felt a buzz surge through her veins. She never wanted that feeling to go away. She took a tentative step forward and then another when the guards didn't react.

She reached them and then passed them. They didn't so much as blink. Kyra entered the dungeons, walking along the familiar cells until she found Amora's. The Enchantress was stowed in the very last as if to be forgotten. She sat on a cot, looking defeated. Then she tensed.

"You grow stronger and stronger," she said, standing and walking up to the energy field that kept her imprisoned. "I'm impressed."

Kyra dropped the illusion. "I really doubt that."

Amora shrugged. "For a mortal, you possess an incredible amount of power. And to channel another's power…" She looked thoughtful for a moment. "That's why you're here. You want to know how you became like this. You didn't get enough before, so you've come back for more."

Kyra crossed her arms. "And you'll just hand my memories over?"

Amora chuckled. "I can't just hand them over. That's not how it works. You possess your memories, Kyra Winters. You just keep them hidden deep down inside of you so you don't have to relive the truth of your past. Monsters don't always come in the form of gods."

"My parents were not monsters."

"Ah, but I never said I was talking about your parents." A smile broke across Amora's face. "But you think they were. You're _afraid_ they were."

"I don't know what to think," Kyra admitted. "But I need to know the truth."

"And what will you give me in exchange?" Amora asked silkily.

"Certainly not your freedom. What do you want?" She didn't intend to give Amora anything. She'd steal the Eye straight back out of the vault and use it on Amora if she had to.

"You really are desperate." This seemed to amuse Amora.

"What do you want?" Kyra repeated, clenching her fists. Her fingernails dug into her palms.

"I want you to explain yourself." Kyra whirled around at the sound of Loki's voice. He stood a few paces off, his eyes livid with anger. Amora laughed again from her cell which only incensed Kyra more. "Why are you here?" Loki took a step toward her, eyes darting to Amora. She saw a flicker of distrust and realized she'd put it there.

"I just wanted answers," she said, stumbling over her words. He turned his gaze to her.

"She needs me," Amora said, chortling. "I have something she needs."

"My memories. She can help me see the rest of them. She can help me figure out what I am," Kyra finished weakly.

"This isn't the way."

Kyra knew that. She knew it, but she hadn't wanted to admit it. It was the only way, and she didn't want to admit it wouldn't work. "Then I'll never know."

"Come with me." His words were stern, but she thought she detected a hint of sympathy in them. She must have imagined it because the look on his face was anything but sympathetic. She followed him, ignoring the laughter chasing them from Amora's cell. Loki cast an illusion as they passed the guards, and then led her back upstairs. They went down the hall across from her room and stopped at the very last door. Opening it, he nodded for her to enter.

It was a room similar to hers though more cluttered, more personal. Loki's room, she realized. He shut the door after him.

"Why would you look to Amora to help you after all she's done?" he asked. He stood before her, tapping his fingers along his leg impatiently.

"Because I thought it was the only way to get my memories back. They're painful but…I have to know. What I have, what I've remembered…I think my parents were doing something terrible disguised as something good."

He watched her, thoughtful. "Sometimes we think our parents are something more than they really are." It sounded as if he was speaking from experience, but she hesitated to ask.

"I need to know," she repeated.

He sighed. "You should have come to me," he said. She bit back a retort. Not after what he'd done to help her. They should be past that.

"Can you help me?" she asked instead.

"I can. I can help you relive your memories. It won't be pleasant, but you've already experienced that at Amora's hands. I just need you to trust me." He said the last words tentatively as if they might be impossible.

"I do." Kyra knew when she was lying. She also knew when she was telling the truth. She did trust him much to her surprise.

Something softened in his eyes, and he motioned for her to sit down on a chaise lounge near his fireplace. She curled her feet up under her, and Loki sat down on the end of the chair.

"Will you be able to see the memories?" she asked.

"I will. Is that all right?" There was genuine concern in his eyes.

"Yeah. It's all right," she said. She didn't want to be alone in her memories. She didn't want to be alone the night her parents died like she really had been fourteen years before.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

She nodded, and he reached out a hand to lay it on her head. Nothing happened at first, and his hand was warm on her skin. Then she was dropped back into her memory on the night her parents died. Six-year-old Kyra was asleep in her bed, covers pulled up to her chin. Her stuffed dog was clutched in her arms. Kyra's heart was beating quickly.

"I can't do this," she said aloud.

"You're not alone." A hand took hers, fingers entwining her own. She looked over to find Loki standing with her. "It's just a memory. It can't really hurt you. Not physically at least."

She calmed her breathing a little, clutching his hand like a lifeline. "I'm sorry," she said though she wasn't sure why she was apologizing. Of all the things he'd wanted to do tonight, standing with her while she relieved her worst memories and broke down probably wasn't one of them.

A sound came from outside Kyra's room. Like something dragging. Child Kyra woke with a start, clutching her dog tighter and sitting up in bed. Her eyes were wide with fear and alarm. Something moved under the door, a shadow. Kyra sucked in a breath that sounded like a sob. The dragging noise moved on down the stairs and little Kyra got out of bed. Kyra wanted to stop her, tell her to hide under the bed or in her closet. Little Kyra opened the door to the hall and peered out though.

Kyra knew something horrible was coming even if she couldn't remember it. She knew her parents died tonight, and that was enough to make her want to wake up from this nightmare. If only it were a nightmare.

Six-year-old Kyra stepped out into the hall, and Kyra had no choice but to follow her, Loki's hand still clutched in hers. She tiptoed even though she knew she wasn't really there. No one could see or hear her. She skipped the same creaky stair little Kyra did, following her down to her parents' bedroom.

There was something wet on the floor, but Kyra couldn't see what it was in the dark. She watched her younger self step through it, pushing the already open door to her parents' bedroom.

"Mommy? Daddy?" A body lay on the bed, the bed sheets hanging haphazardly off the edge, wrinkled as if there had been a struggle. Child Kyra stepped forward and touched the hand dangling off the bed. "Daddy?" She reached for the lamp on the bedside table, and Kyra stopped breathing. She must have been hurting Loki's hand for how hard she clutched it, but he didn't protest. The light flicked on.

It was a nightmare. Blood was everywhere. Her dad's eyes were wide open, staring straight ahead. His neck had been sliced. Bloody footprints led out of the room. Little Kyra began to sob, backing away. Loki pulled Kyra out into the hall, and she realized she was trembling uncontrollably. She turned and buried her face in his chest. His arms came around her, holding her tightly to him. She didn't cry. She felt hollow as the memory flooded her. She felt a hand brush the back of her hair, and she reached her arms around Loki's neck, holding tighter to him. Little Kyra ran past them shouting for her mom, and Kyra forced herself to pull away. She looked at Loki for a second. His greenish eyes were filled with worry and sorrow—for her.

She wordlessly turned to the living room. She knew her parents sometimes slept separately when they'd had a fight. Her mom or dad would sleep on the couch while the other got the bed. They must have fought earlier when her dad had gotten home. She turned the corner into the room and saw a figure holding a scalpel to her mother's throat. Little Kyra stopped short, crying.

"Let her go!" she shouted, little fists tightening

"Kyra, baby, you have to run. Run!" her mom called out, her voice trembling with fear.

"Kyra." The way the man said her name sent chills down Kyra's spine. He said it like he owned it. Like he owned _her_. He could make her do anything as long as he held a scalpel to her mom's throat. His hands were coated in her dad's blood. "That's a pretty name."

"Don't you dare say her name, you sick bastard!" Kyra's mom screamed.

"Let her go!" Kyra cried out again.

"I'll let her go. Tell you what, little girl," the man said, licking a tongue to his parched lips. His white eye was sickly in the dim light of the living room window. His skin was patchy and bluish as if he were still half-frozen. "You do me a favor, and I'll let your mamma go. How does that sound?"

"Don't listen to him, Kyra. Just go." Her mom's eyes were desperate, but Kyra was desperate to save her.

"What do you want me to do?" Kyra asked instead of running.

"You see that needle there?" the man asked, indicating a syringe lying on the coffee table. Kyra nodded. "I need you to take it. Can you do that?"

Kyra reached for the syringe. "No, baby, no," her mom sobbed quietly.

"Now, I need you to hold it up to your arm. You see those blue veins under your skin?" he asked, and Kyra nodded again. She'd been given shots by doctors before. She wasn't afraid of needles. It was what scientists like her parents used. "You stick that needle right into your vein and squeeze all that liquid in. Then I'll let your mamma go."

"Don't do it, Kyra. Do not put that in your body." Sonya was desperate, struggling against the man enough that the blade nicked her neck. Blood welled, and Kyra grabbed the syringe.

"It's gonna make you magical," the man said. "Just like me." He didn't look at all magical to Kyra with half the skin on his face missing, but she nodded. If he'd let her mom go, it was worth it.

"Kyra…" Her mother's voice was weak. She knew she couldn't stop Kyra.

Kyra found her vein and plunged the needle in, pressing the top to send the liquid into her bloodstream. She didn't stop until the syringe was empty. Then she pulled it out and let it drop to the floor. The man was grinning eagerly at her. He made no move to lower the scalpel.

"Let my mom go."

"I want to see what it does to you first."

"No. No no no no no…"

"I want her to see what she did to me when she experimented. I want her to see your skin begin to flake off, your eyes whiten until you're blind."

Kyra glared at him. "You lied."

"Wouldn't it be nice if you could tell when someone was lying?" he asked with a hungry smile.

Kyra was beginning to feel strange. She wobbled on her feet just as her younger version did, and Loki caught her, arms grasping her and pulling her back up. She leaned against him as the serum took effect. Little Kyra fell to the floor in a heap, and Sonya began to scream.

"Shut up."

Kyra's vision faded to black. She'd lost consciousness. It was a gap in her memory. When she opened her eyes, she was seeing through the eyes of her younger self. She was staring straight into her dead mother's eyes. Her neck had been slit. Kyra didn't cry. She was too shocked. She got to her feet, her hair stained with blood. Her nightgown was splattered with it and her hands. She turned and faced her parents' murderer.

"What...? Why aren't you dead? Why is your skin still so perfect? Why aren't you a monster like me?" he asked, taking a step toward her and then another. Kyra held her ground. Fury built up in her. She could feel it tingling along her fingertips. He reached out to her…and flew backwards. He hit the wall so hard the plaster cracked. A painting fell to the floor, glass shattering. Had she done that? Flashing lights blinded Kyra through the window. She backed away from the man as he groaned, turning and running. She ripped open the front door and ran out into the street. There were screeching brakes, and she was half-blinded by headlights. People were getting out of the police cars. She'd left a trail of bloody footprints.

"Are you all right? Are you injured?" Hands gently took her, pulling her toward an ambulance. Kyra followed, mute, her hands still tingling with power. She looked back at the house as a blanket was wrapped around her shoulders and a light shone in her eyes.

"She's in shock," said a woman in paramedic white. "None of this blood is hers. Can you tell me your name, honey? What's your name?"

"Kyra. Kyra Winters."

It was the only thing she would remember from that night. The only thing she would remember from the first six years of her life.

…

When they came out of Kyra's memory, she was unconscious. She slumped forward, and Loki caught her, turning her over and setting her head against his leg. He pushed her thick hair back from her forehead, frowning at how vulnerable she looked. She wasn't. He knew that much by now, but he also thought he understood why she was so distrustful. Those memories had been festering under the surface for years now. What she'd lived through as a child…no one should have to go through that. He knew what it felt like to lose a parent. His mother had been murdered by a monster too. In the end, the monster had been slain. He wondered if the human police had caught the man. Did Kyra get her justice?

He looked down at her, beginning to worry when she didn't wake. Her skin was pale and warm to the touch. Then her eyes flashed open, and she sat up, breathing hard.

"Kyra. Kyra, you're safe," he told her, putting a hand on her back. She relaxed at his touch, leaning into him. "Are you all right?" What a stupid question to ask. Of course she wasn't after witnessing the death of her parents.

"Thank you for letting me see the truth," she said. She wouldn't turn to look at him.

"Kyra?" He moved his hand to her shoulder. "Please look at me."

She turned, and he dropped his hand. She sat next to him, legs dangling off the opposite side of the chair. Their shoulders brushed, and she still felt feverish. She met his eyes.

"It's not magic. It was what my parents had been developing… They were trying to create psychic powers in humans. They were _experimenting_ on one. That man…" She broke off, shaking her head.

He'd said the serum had made him lose the skin on his face, had caused his deformities. Kyra remained unblemished, but Loki remembered how much it took out of her when she cast illusions. He didn't trust humans to attain such a power through science. What if the serum Kyra had injected herself with was dangerous? What if it was hurting her? He said none of this aloud.

"Did they catch him?" he asked.

Kyra shook her head. "The papers said they never did. He vanished. What if he could cast illusions too? The serum caused his deformities, but it could have given him powers too."

"He can't get to you."

"That's not what I meant." He knew what she meant. She wanted revenge. She wanted to see her parents' murderer see justice for his crime. "I need to know why. There are still too many gaps. I still don't have all the answers."

"Maybe that's for the better–"

"No." She stood abruptly, pacing the room. He turned to watch her, furrowing his brow. He couldn't read her now. She was unpredictable when she was emotional. He couldn't tell if she was about to break down or start screaming at him. "I need to know. I need more…" She stopped pacing, turning to face him, and he could feel the sorrow pouring off of her. Tears welled in her eyes. He started to get up, but she put up a hand to stop him. A single tear rolled down her cheek, mingling with her hair. She stood still for a moment, collecting herself. Bottling up her emotions.

"Come here." He said it firmly, and she cocked her head at him through her glistening eyes. "Please?" he added. She came to sit beside him again. "You need to calm down. After what you saw, of course you want to go off on a revenge rampage, but you can't act on your emotions like that."

"You act on your emotions all the time," she sniffed.

He gave her a mischievous smile. "And look how well that turns out for me."

"You're king of an alien planet and live in a palace made of gold." The familiar spitefulness had returned to her eyes but a smile tugged the corner of her mouth.

"We all have our burdens to bear," he said with a shrug.

"You didn't have to bear this one." She met his eyes, and the irritation had faded.

"It wasn't a burden," he told her. Her eyes drew him in, dark wells of emotion. Her lips parted as she took in a breath.

"I couldn't have done it without you, and I don't just mean your abilities," she told him. She placed a hand over his, not breaking his gaze. Her pupils were wide, her breath a little ragged. He told himself it was because the room was dim and she was still catching her breath from her memories. It would be wrong to kiss her when she was feeling so vulnerable. His thoughts were moving sluggishly. Did he just say he wanted to kiss her? _Did_ he? The thought startled him, but he couldn't shake it. He wasn't aware of anything but her eyes set on his, the warmth of her hand, the closeness of her body as she leaned closer almost unconsciously.

"Kyra…" He said her name in a long breath, and she blinked, lips parting as if she wanted to ask what he was thinking. Would he tell her if she asked?

When had all this changed? When had she changed from an irritating mortal to this courageous, beautiful woman who challenged him in every way and pushed him to be a better person? They hadn't known each other long and yet they'd been through so much together. He'd been inside her memories, witnessed the worst night of her life. He knew her even though there was still so much to learn. He wanted to learn it all.

"Yes?" she breathed. They were inches away, and his heartbeat pattered unevenly. He hadn't felt this way in a very long time, hadn't wanted to take the time to know someone, hadn't wanted to kiss someone and then look for them the next day and the next day after that to do it again. Maybe it made him weak, but right now he didn't care. She made him strong. He entwined their fingers. She blinked again. He saw something change in her eyes. He was losing her. He saw the doubt in her eyes, the uncertainty that turned to fear. She pulled her hand away, and he clenched his fist. It took everything not to reach for her again.

"I should go."

 _No, you shouldn't_. He didn't speak the words aloud. She drew away, standing.

"I'm sorry. I'm tired. I just need to get some sleep. Thank you, Loki. Thank you for helping me. For everything."

He said nothing as she hurried from his room, shutting the door behind her. He sat for a long time after she left wishing she would come back. She didn't.


	21. Twenty: Impulse

**Author's Note:** I'm just going to drop this super, extra long chapter right here. Enjoy.

* * *

 **Twenty – Impulse**

Kyra pressed her back against the door to her room, catching her breath. Her head was spinning, and she couldn't seem to take in enough air. She thought she might be having a panic attack and sunk to the floor, pressing her head to her knees. Thoughts and memories, feelings and confusion flooded her mind like a tsunami that couldn't be stopped. Everything was too much and yet…not enough. She wanted to know more, wanted to fill in the gaps. She wanted revenge for her parents. She wanted something more from Loki though she couldn't say what. She couldn't think about that now, couldn't begin to consider what had changed between them. But something had changed. That much was clear, and it frightened her. Kyra wasn't used to trusting people, wasn't used to letting them into her life. Loki was a trickster, and it felt like a very bad idea to want something more from him. A bad idea to trust him.

But she did. She trusted him more than she'd trusted anyone else in a very long time. There was something that undeniably drew her to him despite the danger. She knew he wouldn't hurt her. Not like when she'd first come to Asgard and he thought he had to threaten her to get what he wanted. But he was a manipulator and pain wasn't only physical. He was so much older than her—a god from mythology—getting into anything with him save a tentative alliance was a very bad idea. Besides, who was she to think there might even be anything between them? Loki could have the pick of Asgardian maidens, and he certainly wouldn't pick a mortal from Earth.

Kyra let out a shaky sob. She'd just watched her parents die—relieved her worst memory—and she was worried about where she and Loki stood. She'd helped him reclaim his kingdom; he'd helped her get her memories back. It was an even exchange, and she knew he wouldn't want to be in her debt. It was nothing more than that even if had seemed like it was something more just a few minutes before. She had been vulnerable, in need of comfort. That was all it was. All it could ever be.

She looked down at her hands, unsure of how to feel about her powers. She stared down at the veins in her left arm, imagining the sensation of a needle piercing her skin, of a serum burning in her veins. She went over what she knew in her head, realizing how little it was. Her parents had been trying to create a serum that enabled psychic abilities. They'd begun working for Hydra when the university had cut off their funding. Hydra had forced them to work on a live subject, clearly holding a great deal of power over Kyra's parents. She wanted to believe that they never would have done that without extensive threats on Hydra's part. But they'd done it nonetheless. The serum had disfigured the man, but she wasn't sure if it had given him any abilities. It had worked on her. She wasn't sure if it was perfect. Her abilities did not work smoothly. Sometimes they didn't work at all. They seemed to work better when Loki's magic was there to aid her. But what she had wasn't magic. It was some ill-thought experiment. It was all she had left of her parents' failures. It was the reason for their deaths.

She clenched her fists, her emotions welling up until she felt as if she would burst. She let out a ragged sob and half the contents of her room flew backwards with a force that left her feeling drained. Books scattered across the floor, furniture lay overturned, and a porcelain vase lay shattered. Kyra sat breathing hard. There was nothing special about her. Nothing magical. She was an abomination, the result of the worst parts of her life.

She kicked off her boots and crawled under the covers of her bed, ignoring the mess around her. She didn't know who she was anymore, who she was supposed to be. She didn't think she would be able to fall asleep and that, if she did, her mind would be riddled with nightmares. As it turned out, she'd used the last reserves of her strength, and she fell into a coma-like sleep, her mind blissfully empty.

…

Kyra awoke late the next morning to a knock on her door. Or perhaps it was late afternoon. She turned over and fell back asleep, ignoring the knock. Part of her didn't want to deal with the world, but another part of her was simply exhausted. She had her limits, and she had pushed herself too far.

Food appeared later that night, and she managed to eat a little before curling back up in her bed. She spent the next morning similarly until an insistent knocking came in the late afternoon.

"Go away!" she said loudly enough to be heard. It was probably Loki. The door opened, and she sat up in bed, opening her mouth to shout at him again. To her surprise, Sif walked in. Her friend took one look at the room—still left in the same state as it had been when Kyra had released her emotions—and turned to Kyra, concern etched on her face.

"Odin told me Amora showed you your past, that she unlocked your memories. Kyra, I can't even begin to imagine."

Kyra sat up in bed, conscious of her matted hair and rumpled clothes. Sif looked put together as usual, armor shining, hair in a neat ponytail.

"How's Aelsa?" Kyra asked, not wanting to talk about her memories.

Sif righted an overturned chair and sat down. "She's fine. I escorted her back to Alfheim. She was in no shape to travel the Bifrost alone. Her people were glad to see her and happy to hear Amora was locked up in Asgard. Skurge refused to open the Bifrost for anyone, so none of Alfheim's soldiers had any luck getting into Asgard. That's partially why I'm here besides wanting to check on you. Odin is throwing a peace festival tonight. Aelsa will be there. She personally asked that you be there. But only if you're feeling up to it."

Kyra wanted to say no. Wanted to cover herself in blankets and pretend the world outside didn't exist. She also knew she needed to get up. She'd spent too many years haunted by memories she couldn't even remember. Now she needed to move on. Her parents were dead. There was no bringing them back, but she could still find the truth. She could still get justice. But she wouldn't be able to do that from this bed.

"I'll go whether I feel up to it or not," she said.

"Not like that." Sif stood. "Why don't I clean up this mess while you bathe and change? There are some gowns in the armoire."

"Are you going like that?" Kyra asked, nodding at Sif's armor as she dragged herself out of bed.

Sif gave her a smile. "No. I'll change before the feast. I just don't need as much work as you."

"Point taken. You don't have to clean up my mess, you know. I just…lost control for a minute." She'd felt as if she'd burst if she hadn't released that energy. It scared her to think her powers could be that destructive. She remembered the force with which she'd sent the man flying in her memory. No wonder she'd been given medication to dull her powers. She was a liability.

"It'll only take a few minutes," Sif said, sorting through the books on the floor. "I want to do something to help."

Kyra realized Sif was ashamed for having fallen under Amora's spell. "Sif, that Warlock's Eye nearly controlled me, and I seem to be immune to illusions and spells for the most part. None of what happened was your fault."

"I'm just glad you're back safe. Now go. We don't want to be late."

…

"Are you sure about this dress?" Kyra asked Sif as they walked downstairs together. Twilight had fallen, turning the city into a watercolor painting. It was breath taking, and Kyra realized she'd begun to settle. She looked forward to the next sunset or sunrise. Those were true magic.

"You look beautiful. You'll be the talk of the festival." Sif looked gorgeous in her own gown, a deep aqua blue that hugged her waist and flared out in graceful cascades of fabric. Her dark hair was loose around her shoulders.

Kyra's own dress was a shade of burnished orange that brought out hints of the same shade in her eyes. Delicate beadwork shone in patterns of flowers so realistic they might have been alive. It hugged her body, accentuating her subtle curves and falling gracefully to the floor. The back plunged, exposing her spine while the sleeves capped off over her shoulders. Sif had pulled her long hair into a high ponytail, something simple as the dress spoke for itself. Amber earrings dangled from her ears. Kyra felt self-conscious as they stepped into the celebration. People turned to stare, and she felt her cheeks heating. She felt as if everyone could see straight through her into her memories.

She saw Aelsa standing across the room with a delegation of light elves. They were conversing with Hogun, Volstagg, and Fandral. Kyra found herself scanning the room for a particular person, suddenly terrified to come face-to-face with him after their last encounter. Her mind was a flutter of confusion, her heart torn between her painful memories and the uncertainty that arose every time she thought of Loki.

"Kyra!" Aelsa had caught sight of her and stepped forward to grasp Kyra's hands. She looked otherworldly in a gown made of iridescent fabric butterflies. Her hair shone white, and her pointed ears peeked out through the long strands. "It's wonderful to see you again!"

"You too," Kyra returned. "How are you?"

"Much better thanks to you and–" She caught herself. "Thanks to you," she finished, but Kyra knew what she meant. "I would invite you to join my personal guard, but I think something might keep you in Asgard."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Kyra mumbled.

"It suits you," Aelsa went on, drawing Kyra apart from the others. Around them, couples whirled in graceful dance. It made Kyra dizzy to watch as she walked the perimeter of the room with the elf queen. She noticed two light elves trailing after them. Clearly Aelsa's guards were taking their job extra seriously after Amora's deception. "One would hardly believe you are of Earth the way you glow here."

"It's funny. Even though I haven't been here long, I feel as if I belong. When I first came here I was this frightened, nervous girl who jumped at shadows and thought the world was out to get her. It hasn't been that long, and yet I've been through so much. I've learned more about myself and my past than I ever did in the last nineteen years. I realized the medication the doctors gave me all my life were what caused me the nervous breakdowns and panic attacks. All along I thought they were to help me, but they were only to keep my powers at bay. Someone didn't want me to find out what I could do. I still have so many questions though. I don't want to leave, but…"

"You can't find the answers you seek here," Aelsa finished for her, understanding warming her words.

"Exactly."

"But you're afraid to go."

"I'm afraid if I go, I might lose who I've become. I might revert to that scared girl who let others dictate her life for so long." Kyra stopped, turning to face Aelsa. "Here I feel like I belong, but on Earth… There I'd just be an abnormality. Maybe I am anyway. My abilities aren't magical. They were created in a lab by my own parents. I was never meant to have them."

"Maybe you weren't born with your abilities, but you wield them like you were," Aelsa told her. "Whether you were meant to have them or not, you do. Now you must decide how you will use them."

"I want the truth. I want to fill in the gaps from my past. I want revenge for my parents' deaths." How could she move on when she was still in the past, when she was still left wondering 'why'?

"Is that all you want?" The elf queen gave her a radiant smile and suddenly moved off, her guards following her. Kyra turned and found herself facing Loki. He wore not his Odin guise, but the guise of the guard. He stood still, waiting for her to either walk away or come to him. She wavered a moment. Then she walked straight to him.

"I never properly thanked you for everything you did for me," she said. "You didn't have to relive those memories with me, but you did. Difficult as they were to watch, I needed to know."

"That was the smallest compensation after what you did for me," he told her, lips twitching in a subtle smile.

"Does that mean you still owe me a favor?" Kyra asked, her tone mischievous.

"You mean you haven't been counting?"

The way he was looking at her made her bold, and she spoke before she had the chance to take her words back. "Will you ask me to dance?" She'd never danced before, but it looked so graceful, so alive. She wanted to feel that alive, wanted to be held in Loki's arms where she realized she felt safe. So much had changed in so short a time, but she wasn't the same person who'd first tripped into Asgard. Somehow, she didn't think he was the same either. He'd changed, too. There was less hostility that she now recognized as distrustfulness, less cutting remarks and threats. He no longer looked at her as if she was a liability, like she was a threat to him. He looked at her like… She wasn't sure. She couldn't read the expression in his eyes. Thoughtful, perhaps? She hoped she hadn't overstepped their unspoken boundaries.

Then he reached out a slender hand. "Would you like to dance?" he asked, a smile curving his lips. His black hair was neatly brushed, falling across his shoulders in subtle waves. His eyes appeared more blue tonight than green, striking against his pale skin.

"I would, thank you," she told him, setting her hand in his. "I'll warn you. I don't know the first thing about dancing."

"Don't worry," he said, pulling her close so quickly that she had to catch herself against his chest with one hand. The breath left her lungs as their faces came within inches of each other. "I'll catch you if you trip."

He placed one hand on the small of her back, holding her other, and she brought up her free hand to grip his shoulder. "You don't have to hold on that tightly," he chuckled. "Dancing isn't like riding a horse."

For how breathless she was, it might as well have been. They began to sway, Loki leading as they moved between the other couples. She hardly noticed them. It was just her and Loki and the music that floated around them.

"You have an awful lot of parties and feasts in Asgard," Kyra said, unable to think of anything else to say.

Loki lifted a brow. "And you don't on Midgard?"

"Oh, people _love_ to party. I always actively avoided parties. They made me nervous. Loud music and people made me nervous. Everything made me nervous." She'd declined several invitations from fellow students before they'd stopped asking altogether.

"But not now?"

"Not so much anymore. I mean I've faced a couple of Bilgesnipe and an evil sorceress. Parties don't seem so bad anymore." Particularly not this one. She shivered when Loki's fingers brushed the bare skin on her back where her dress cut off. His mouth twisted up in a small smile, and she knew he was aware of the effect it was having on her. She tried to play it cool, but she was suddenly lost for words.

"I'm glad you approve."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well," he said, tilting his head to the side, "I remember a time not long ago that you might have criticized me for such extravagance."

"No," Kyra corrected, "I criticized you for wanting to write a play about your heroics. Tonight your people have cause for celebration." She looked around and saw the smiles on their faces. "They're safe because of you." Maybe he didn't make such a bad king after all.

"And you. I couldn't have done any of that without you," he added softly, the look in his eyes sincere.

She shrugged self-consciously. "Why don't we call it even? I'm tired of games." He didn't owe her anything.

"I wasn't aware we were playing a game."

Kyra's mind became muddled as he spun her. Her back hit his chest lightly, and his arm came to rest across her stomach. "If we were, I'd probably be winning," he breathed into her ear. Her breath came out in short spurts until he released her and resumed their dance.

"What, no witty comeback?" he asked, a smirk curving his lips.

Kyra opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her cheeks flushed as he chuckled softly. When the song ended, Kyra wished it could keep going. Loki dropped his hands, and she was left feeling cold and alone though he lingered before her.

"Shouldn't you be making an appearance as Odin?" she asked, not meeting his eyes.

"He's right over there," Loki said, and Kyra turned to see an illusion of Odin chatting with some courtiers across the hall.

"It must be nice not to be him for a night."

"I'd rather be myself," he said quietly, and she turned to look at him.

"I don't know," she said, pretending to consider, "the guard guise is a definite improvement. Just look at that chiseled jaw." His jaw twitched.

"I'll be sure to give him a wart next time."

"I can see you," she said, the words slipping from her mouth before she could stop them. His eyes lit up a little. "I can always see the true you."

She'd done a lot of thinking earlier. Thinking about where she belonged, about what she wanted. She knew if she asked, he'd let her stay here forever. Forever to her was much shorter than it was to him, but she wanted to believe he'd want her to stay. It would have been easy to push aside her past and start anew. And yet… And yet she couldn't. She couldn't forget what had happened when it was so fresh in her memories. She was owed answers, owed revenge if she could still take it, justice if she could still find it. She couldn't find answers on Asgard, and she couldn't get her revenge. Both lay on Earth, so that was where she needed to go.

"Can I talk to you?" she asked before she could lose her nerve and forget she'd ever considered it.

"That sounds ominous," he said, but he moved away from the dance floor with her, out onto one of the parapets that overlooked the city. The night air caressed Kyra's skin, and she shivered a little. The sun had almost fully set, and it was a myriad of colors across the lake, glowing at the edge of the heavens where the constellations twinkled into sight.

"It's so beautiful here," she said aloud. "I think I could get used to this." She was aware of Loki's eyes on her instead of the sunset. "But I can't. I can't stay here when there are answers out there about my parents and my abilities…" She flexed her fingers, unsure of the power beneath her skin. It had been so exciting when she'd first discovered it, but now it felt like an intruder inside her body. She was never meant to have it in the first place.

"What are you saying?" his tone was sharper than she'd expected, and she looked over to find him watching her intently, waiting for her reply.

"I have to go back to Earth. I have to find answers, and I'm not going to find them here." Once the words were out, she wished she could have taken them back. She felt as if something fragile was shattering, and she could sense him pulling away. "I don't want to go. I don't want to leave Asgard, and I don't want to go back there."

"You don't have to justify yourself to me. I'm not going to force you to stay." He turned away from her, resting his closed fists on the parapet wall.

"I know that. I know I don't have to justify myself." She felt frustration welling up. Why did everything have to be so difficult with him? "I just thought it might be nice to tell you instead of disappearing."

"When are you leaving?" He still wouldn't look at her.

"Probably first thing tomorrow." Maybe if had reacted differently she might have stayed longer, but she wasn't going to watch him pout.

"I suppose there's nothing for you here." His words were cold and cut her deeper than she expected.

"Loki…"

"I should go see to my guests." He left her without another word, and Kyra let out a frustrated growl.

"Still having trouble with that guard?" Kyra jumped as Sif approached her, a knowing smile on her face.

"He's so incredibly infuriating," Kyra told her, wishing she could tell her the whole truth. She hated lying to her friend. "One minute I think we're getting along and the next…"

"Men." Sif let out a sigh. "But usually when they act like that it's because they're too afraid to say what's really on their minds. They don't like to talk about their feelings."

"Feelings?" Kyra felt flushed suddenly. "Who said anything about feelings?" Her words came out high-pitched, panicked.

Sif's smile widened. "I can tell when two people are too afraid to admit their feelings for each other. Clearly all that knife training sparked something."

"Maybe a deep-rooted frustration." Kyra turned away so Sif couldn't see her blush. "I haven't known him long enough to have feelings for him. Not like that."

Sif shrugged, leaning against the parapet wall next to Kyra. "Sometimes it's not about time. Attraction certainly isn't about time. To feel something deeper, yes, that takes longer, but sometimes it's all right to admit you're interested in someone even if they don't reciprocate." Kyra turned to look at her, wondering if she were speaking from experience. "But I would say the interest is reciprocated."

"Then why did he stalk off like that?"

"What did you say to him?" Sif lifted an eyebrow.

"Why do you think _I_ was the one who said something?" Kyra asked indignantly then sighed. "I told him I was going back to Earth. I need answers about my past. What Amora showed me…there are still gaps. I don't know a lot of the whys and some of the hows. I don't know the full extent of my powers or if my parents' murderer is still out there somewhere."

"That sounds dangerous."

"Yes, I suppose it does."

"That's probably why he stormed off then," Sif said knowingly. "He's worried for your safety. He wants to protect you, but he can't do it from here."

"I'm not sure he's at all worried about me."

"You underestimate yourself, Kyra. You might be human, but humans can be astonishingly brave and intelligent. You remind me of someone who recently visited Asgard from Earth. Thor's beloved."

"Thor is in love with a mortal?" Kyra asked, eyes widening at the thought.

"He is." Sif's voice was wistful, and suddenly Kyra knew exactly who'd she'd been speaking of when she'd mentioned someone not reciprocating feelings.

"Has that ever happened before between a mortal and an Asgardian?" Her thoughts danced to Loki, but she dragged them back before they could go down that path. She still adamantly refused to acknowledge any feelings she might or might not have.

"Throughout history, Asgardians would sometimes take Midgardians as lovers, but typically we stick to our own kind. Mortals live such short lives, and we live on for hundreds of thousands of years."

"Do Asgardians ever die? Of old age, I mean?"

"We can, yes. Even we have our limits. We bleed as humans, and we eventually grow old."

"Give or take a few hundred thousand years." She couldn't imagine living such a long time. She didn't think she'd want to.

"If you really are leaving for Earth tomorrow, you should talk to him," Sif nudged her arm. "You'll feel better."

"I'm not sure he'll listen."

"Then make him. You hardly have trouble making yourself heard. You've come a long way since you first arrived as you said. I'll miss you while you're on Earth though. I hope you're planning on coming back."

"I hope so too." Kyra squeezed her friend's hand. "Thank you for everything you've done for me. And thank you for the advice."

Sif smiled at her. "Sometimes you just have to take a chance. Be impulsive. It keeps life interesting."

The festivities were still in full swing when Kyra returned to the dance floor, but she could see Loki nowhere. His Odin guise was watching the merriment from the side of the room. Aelsa stood chatting with a group of Asgardians, her guards hovering nearby. There was no sign of Loki in his guard-guise or any other. She closed her eyes and concentrated on his magic.

A familiarity crept across her skin, and she followed it out of the festival hall and down the corridor to the throne room. It frightened her that they were connected in this way. She didn't know if Loki could sense her magic the way she could his. She could sense his illusions but when she arrived in the throne room, he wore no guise. He stood before the throne, arms crossed, blending in with the shadows in his usual black and green. Kyra felt nerves skittering across her skin and forced herself not to leave.

"What do you want from me?" she asked. Her words echoed too loudly in the hall, but he didn't start. He had known she was there all along.

"What makes you think I want anything from you?" he asked. His tone came out weary instead of angry.

"You threw a fit when I told you I was leaving." This made him turn around.

"A _fit_? I'd hardly call that a fit. Why would I care if you want to go get yourself killed on Earth?" He narrowed his eyes, arms still crossed.

His words stung. "If you don't care, then why did you save my life? Why did you carry me to safety after I passed out? Why did you do anything to help me?" Her frustration welled up inside of her, clamoring to be let out. "No matter what I do, we always end up here, at each other's throats for no good reason. I don't owe you anything, and yet here I am trying to make amends before I go."

He uncrossed his arms, face softening slightly. "I don't want to see you get hurt," he admitted.

"That's not what you just said."

"Sometimes I don't mean what I say. You should know better than anyone."

She did know when he was lying, but it didn't lessen the blow of his words. She let out a resigned breath. "I would like to part as friends," she said. "Can we do that at least?"

He considered her for a moment. "Friends."

"Is that so impossible?"

"Is that what you really want? To part as _friends_."

"Would you rather we part as enemies?" She wanted to throw her arms up in the air, storm out of the room. She was tired of his riddles.

"I'd rather you stop lying to yourself." His words hung in the air, and Kyra stopped breathing a moment.

Did she want them to part as friends? Yes, that was no lie. The lie was in telling herself she didn't want more. She stood, uncertain, then took a step forward. Then another. She stopped a few feet in front of him, eyes narrowed inquisitively.

"I thought we'd agreed to stop playing games," she said. "I came here to make amends. If you want something else from me, just take it."

He watched her silently as if considering what he wanted from her. She waited, ready to turn and walk away. His eyes took her in, traveling from her eyes to her lips and back again, a smile lifting his lips. "I'm coming with you to Midgard."

"What?" Of all the words he could have said, she hadn't expected that. "Why?"

"Because despite what I said earlier, I don't want to see you get hurt. I want to help you get answers."

"But you just got your throne back from Amora. You'd leave it? For me?" She was confused. This was his world, his life, his throne that he'd fought and tricked his way into. Now he was going to give it up, at least temporarily, to help her find answers about her past on Earth?

He shrugged. "It gets a bit dull being Odin sometimes. I'll disguise myself as the guard. I'll be your official escort. I can keep up an Odin guise while we're gone or at least make up some excuse about him being ill from food poisoning or something. No one will suspect a thing."

"You're serious." She was still staring at him, disbelieving.

"I am."

"Okay." She didn't know what to say. This wasn't the outcome she'd been expecting. "Then I guess I'll see you tomorrow." She hesitated, but he just watched her. "Thank you." She wouldn't have to do this alone. She wouldn't have to leave everything behind in Asgard. She turned to leave the hall, stomach fluttering with excitement. She made it a few steps before she stopped.

 _Sometimes you just have to take a chance. Be impulsive. It keeps life interesting_ , Sif had told her. Kyra's heart began pounding beneath her skin. She turned and found that Loki hadn't moved. He stood watching her, waiting for her to move. She started walking back to him, quickening her steps before she could lose her courage. She was about to do something incredibly stupid, but somehow she couldn't seem to stop herself.

When she reached him, she didn't stop. She reached up, grasping the collar of his shirt, and pressed her lips to his. At first nothing happened. He stood still, hands at his sides, mouth unyielding. She thought she'd made a terrible mistake, that she'd completely misjudged whatever it was growing between them. Then his hands were on her hips, warm and possessive, and his lips were moving against hers.

She hadn't made a mistake after all.

She slid her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, silky soft like night itself. He pulled her closer until their bodies were flush. She wondered if he could feel her heart pounding spastically beneath her skin. He deepened the kiss, one hand coming up to gently cup the back of her head. Their magic mingled, connecting in a way that left Kyra feeling dizzy and full. She never wanted to pull away. She wanted to drink him in until she was overflowing.

When they broke apart for air, he grasped her waist, lifting her up onto the throne and leaning in to kiss her again. The throne was hard against her back, but she hardly noticed. She felt as if her heart might leap straight out of her chest. Her skin was on fire, her veins racing with magic. She traced her fingers across his jaw, his skin cool and smooth under her touch. He leaned forward, hands braced against the back of the throne on either side of her.

He slid his lips down her jaw. "What have you done to me, Kyra Winters?" he spoke against her skin before pulling back a little, eyes dancing green with blue flames at their centers. She blinked at him, hazy from the memory of his lips on hers.

"You still owed me a favor," she said, her voice coming out breathless. He'd stolen the breath from her lungs.

His lips quirked up in a mischievous smile. "I thought we weren't playing games anymore."

"This isn't a game," she told him, leaning forward and kissing him again. "I don't know what it is." She hardly had time to speak before he pressed his lips to hers again.

"Does it have to be anything? Can't we just enjoy the moment?" He slipped his hands behind her back, pulling her closer, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"You talk too much," she accused, and he smirked at her. "As do you," he returned.

"Why me?" she had to ask, and he laughed lightly.

"I thought we were done talking."

"You're a king. You could have anyone." She knew she was ruining the moment, but doubt had crept into her mind. If this was something, if it had the potential to lead to something, then she needed to know if he felt the same.

"I thought I'd made it very clear that I'd chosen you," he said, pulling her to her feet. "You've got this fire in you, and I'm drawn to it. It might end up burning us both, but I think it's worth the risk."

"We hardly know each other."

"I have a _very_ long time to get to know you. Kyra, you're overthinking this. I'm not asking anything of you. I'm not asking you to commit the rest of your life to me. I'm not even asking you to kiss me again. Unless you want to." She did. Very much so, but she let him talk. "Let's just see where this leads. If it doesn't lead anywhere, then you still have my word that I'll help you find out the truth of your past. There's a very good chance that you'll change your mind about me along the way. I know I'm not the easiest to get along with. To trust. Just one word from you, and I'll back down."

"You're being much too sweet. How do I know this isn't an illusion?" she asked, prodding him in the chest.

"Hey. I can be nice." He feigned hurt over her words. He leaned down to kiss her once again, sweetly this time, slowly. "You should rest before tomorrow," he said when they broke apart though he looked disappointed at his own words.

Kyra wanted to reject his words, but she nodded, sobering. Tomorrow she would start hunting for answers, and she had no idea where to start. She squeezed his hand. "Thank you," she told him again, "for coming with me. I'm not so afraid anymore."

"If anyone understands dysfunctional families, it's me," he told her. "I understand wanting to know the truth, and I know the pain of being lied to. Sometimes the truth hurts but it's preferable to living a lie. I'll meet you in the stables tomorrow morning. Sif brought Asta back, so we'll take her across the rainbow bridge."

She let go of his hand. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Kyra."

She walked away feeling much more satisfied and whole than when she'd entered the throne room. Her skin was alive, and her heart was throbbing in a deliciously painful way. Sif was right; acting on impulse could be very interesting.


	22. Twenty-One: Midgard

**Author's Note:** Your responses to my last chapter were adorable and made me smile. Thank you!

* * *

 **Twenty-One – Midgard**

The light of the Bifrost was temporarily blinding, and then Kyra's feet were on solid ground. Earth looked particularly drab after the golden gleam of Asgard, and Kyra found herself disappointed. What had first been overwhelming and otherworldly to her had somehow become more familiar in a short amount of time. Maybe she'd never fully felt like she'd fit on Earth in the twenty years she'd spent there.

"My apartment's just around the corner," she told Loki. He was looking particularly out of place in his usual green and black, cape blowing mildly in the breeze. Kyra had told him she wanted to change into her own clothes so she wouldn't look so out of place. "You might want to cast an illusion or something…" She motioned to his clothes and a green glow instantly swept over him. He stood, instead, in a black suit and pants. "Are you going to a funeral or something?" she asked, and he cocked an eyebrow at her. "Never mind."

Her torn bag was slung over her shoulder, and she pulled out her apartment keys that had, somehow, not gotten lost in all her interdimensional travels. As they walked up the stairs, Kyra felt herself growing conscious of how run down this particular building was. It was the cheapest place she could find to rent, and she had refused to ask for financial help from her last foster family. She'd enrolled in college out of the States to get as far away from them as she could.

The key jiggled scratchily in the lock, and Kyra sucked in a breath for a moment, remembering the last time she'd entered her apartment. When she opened the door, however, everything was as she remembered it. The curtains were drawn tight, making the room dark, and she flipped on the overhead light. Loki followed her in, his eyes taking everything in with great interest.

"It's…it's not much," she admitted though he offered no judgment.

He shrugged. "There's nothing wrong with it."

Kyra smiled. He was trying to be polite. "No, there's actually a lot wrong with it, but it was all I could afford while going to school. If someone else on this floor takes too long a shower, none of the rest of us get any hot water. The kitchen sink leaks randomly and floods my counter. The windows freeze over in the winter…" She cut off. She must sound like some kind of pauper to him.

"Well, anyway, I'm just going to change, and we can be going." She suddenly couldn't get out of the cramped apartment fast enough.

"Hey." Loki gently caught her wrist as she headed to her closet. "There's nothing to be ashamed of." His eyes were sincere, brow furrowed ever so slightly.

"I know." She looked up at him when he didn't let go, heart picking up a beat. She found herself leaning into him, but then he dropped her wrist, taking a step back. Kyra retreated to her closet and started shoving her meager collection of clothing into her bag. She slipped into the bathroom to change, stowing the Asgardian clothes in her bag. She kept the boots but opted for a worn pair of jeans and a sweater. She pulled on a black faux leather jacket over the ensemble and called it good. At least one of them would blend in.

Back in the living room that also acted as a kitchen and bedroom, she gazed around. She didn't have much. The furniture had come with the apartment. She'd checked out most of her books from the library. Hardbacks were too heavy to move, and she'd grown used to never staying in one place for too long. There were no personal photos. She didn't have any of her parents. Her life was packed in her shoulder bag. Enough clothes to get her by, the rest of the money she'd stashed for emergencies, and her toothbrush and hairbrush.

"Let's go." She turned off the lights, wondering what would happen when she never came back. Answers weren't in Greenwich. She didn't know where to start except the house she grew up in. She realized it might have been better to have had Skurge send them straight to Seattle, but somehow she'd needed to see her apartment one last time. To say goodbye? To pick up the remnants of the life she'd forged for herself? She didn't know if she'd come go back, but she pushed her key back under the door as if to prove to herself that she'd moved on. She'd come here to get away from her life, but now she was chasing after it.

"Can I just stop by the university and let them know I'm not coming back?" Maybe that was a part of the reason she'd come back—she was afraid if she disappeared that no one would notice.

"Of course."

She had just enough money for two plane tickets, if she was remembering correctly how much it'd cost for her to fly to Greenwich when she'd turned eighteen. She didn't remember her old address, so she'd have to do some digging. She'd find an article on the murders. Find some sort of record. She wondered why Loki had agreed to come with her. This couldn't be interesting to him in the least, and she wasn't sure how he was going to respond to a long flight to Seattle. Did he even know what an airplane was? He'd probably scoff at its primitive technology.

They walked side-by-side to campus, Kyra caught up in the absurdity of Loki with her. "You seriously look way too formal," she said. "This is a college campus. People are more…laid back."

"Hence the ripped jeans?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow at her choice in fashion.

"Precisely."

There was a ripple of green, and he was wearing dark jeans, a black tee, and black hoodie. "Better?"

Kyra sucked in a breath. "Better," she managed, her voice coming out higher than she'd meant it to. Somehow he could pull off just about any look. At least he would blend in a little better now though there was something decidedly unearthly about him. The way he held himself, perhaps. Ready to strike out at anyone who got in his way or so much as looked at him wrong. She realized how tense he looked. And then she remembered the last time he'd been on Midgard.

"Will anyone recognize you?" Why hadn't she thought of that before? Then again, he could cast illusions. It's what she'd been relying on for getting them on the plane. Loki could fake an ID easily enough, she supposed he could fake his appearance altogether.

"I really doubt most humans are that observant," he said stiffly.

"Sorry. Just had to ask."

He glanced down at her. "I know." He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt, and she wondered how many knives he had stowed on him. Her own knife was in her bag. That wouldn't go over well on the airplane she realized. Why hadn't she just had Skurge set them down in Seattle? Illusions would take care of that, too, she supposed.

The student union building was under construction, giant sheets of plastic waving in the wind. There was a small office at the back of the building that was currently housing the registrar's office. Kyra and Loki stepped in.

"Hi." Kyra stepped up to the counter, Loki hovering behind her. The registrar looked up at her through thick glasses, looking a bit flustered in the cramped space. Her eyes passed over Kyra to Loki, her brow furrowing for just a second. Long enough to make Kyra stiffen. Then the woman's smile turned genuine, and she realized she'd been checking him out. Kyra reached out and entwined her fingers with his before she really thought about what he was doing. She thought she heard him chuckle too quietly for anyone but her to hear.

"Er. I'm a student here, but I've had a death in the family and will be traveling back to the States as soon as possible," she told the woman. "I'm not going to be able to finish the semester."

"I'm sorry to hear that." The woman straightened her glasses. "Can I get your name?"

"Kyra Winters."

The woman typed into the computer, nails clicking daintily on the keys. She frowned, biting the inside of her cheek. "There's no listing of a Kyra Winters at this school," she said, her crisp accent taking on an impatient note.

"I have a student ID card," Kyra said. She pulled it out of her bag, sliding it across the counter. The woman clicked around the computer a little but shook her head, sliding the card back.

"I'm sorry, but there's no record of you here."

"You sustained a lot of damage. Could some of your files have gotten lost?" Kyra asked, panic welling inside of her.

"All our files were backed up," the woman told her. "But if you're leaving... I can take down your name and do a little more searching."

"No, that's all right. Thank you." Kyra snatched the card and pushed out of the building, dropping Loki's hand in the process.

"What's wrong?" Loki asked.

"My record disappeared," she said, turning around to face him. A cool wind sent her hair across her face, and she pulled away a strand that clung to her lips.

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"I wanted to drop out. But they had no record of me at all. It's like someone came and wiped it all. Someone made me disappear." She felt as if eyes were watching her, crawling all over her body until she wanted to scream. Could it have been the men from Hydra? She'd lost them somewhere in the Bifrost. They wouldn't have had time.

"Let's get out of here," she said quietly, shoving her hands in her jacket pockets and heading away from the campus. Loki caught up to her.

"What would someone have to gain by erasing any record of you?" he asked, brow furrowed.

"I don't know. It's like someone wanted to pretend like I never existed." She shivered.

"I'm not going to let anyone hurt you," Loki told her, stepping in front of her and placing his hands on her shoulders. She tilted her head up so she could meet his eyes.

"Can we keep training?" she asked. "I'd hardly call myself proficient with the knife and, grateful as I am that you're here to protect me, I'd like to be able to better defend myself. And...I suppose I should learn to use my powers better. I don't fully understand them, but if I can at least grasp the basics..."

"Of course." He let go of her but stayed close as they continued walking, shoulder brushing hers.

"We have to get to Seattle. That's where my parents raised me. I doubt there's anything left of their research in the house, but I don't know where else to look. I have just enough money for a cab and plane tickets." And then after that... After that, she didn't know. She felt as if the foundations of her life had been torn from beneath her feet, and she was left unbalanced and desperate for direction.

"I don't suppose it would be helpful to point out that there are faster ways to travel," Loki said calmly as she scrambled to come up with some semblance of a plan.

"I didn't think we could just use the Bifrost like that."

"I don't think Skurge has anything better to do save perhaps entertain girls with the random garbage he's snatched from Earth. Just summon him and think of where you want to go. And we might want to find somewhere a little less crowded unless you want to make a memorable exit."

"No. That won't be necessary." They found a deserted parking lot behind one of the half-demolished buildings. "All right. Do we need to hold hands or something?" she asked, ignoring the smirk Loki gave her.

"Only if you want to."

Kyra pursed her lips, but took his hand anyway. Better to anchor herself. She thought of Seattle, thought of her childhood home and focused on that. Perhaps they wouldn't need to track down an address after all. Once she had a firm picture in her mind, she said, "Open the Bifrost." A surge of rainbow light erupted around them, and she tightened her grip on Loki's hand as the light bore them away.

This time when they hit ground again, they stood on the sidewalk in a nice neighborhood. Kyra looked around her. Then her eyes froze. There was the house sitting across from her with white-painted windows and a manicured lawn as if nothing horrific had ever happened inside. It was a mockery, but Kyra supposed the world had moved on without her, moved on not knowing what tragedy had befallen the family that used to live there in 2116 Verdondale Drive. Kyra thought she might have a bad reaction to the memory of the house, that her nightmares would well up to consume her. They didn't. Loki gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and she let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

"That's it," she said. "That's where I grew up. Where it happened." The house was bigger than she'd remembered, perhaps because she'd spent her last few months cooped up inside, not allowed to venture out into the world her parents deemed too dangerous. They'd been right. And wrong. They thought the danger wouldn't get them inside, couldn't follow them, but it had already been there. They'd signed their fates when they'd said yes to Hydra. It hurt that they'd done it anyway despite the danger. They weren't perfect. Kyra had to remind herself they'd never meant for her to get hurt. An unfamiliar resentment built up in her. She'd gotten hurt anyway. She'd grown up without parents in the harsh system that left her longing to be accepted and hating herself for the girl she'd become—weak and fearful, liable to jump at shadows. She wasn't that girl anymore. She refused to let someone else's bad decision throw her life into chaos.

Now that she was here, she didn't know what to do. The people living there wouldn't know anything. The wallpaper would have been redone over the blood. The floors would have been scrubbed clean or perhaps ripped up altogether. There would be nothing left except the ghosts of her memories. She let go of Loki's hand and sat down on the curb, the energy going out of her. "I don't know where to start," she told him. "They left me nothing."

He brushed down the cement before sitting down next to her, and a smile tugged the corner of her mouth at his meticulous behavior. "What is it you really want out of this?" he asked, folding his hands in his lap.

"I want answers. I want to know what my parents were trying to do. I want to know who the man was that killed them. I want to know what I injected myself with all those years ago."

"And where would you find that information?" he prodded gently.

"I don't know. A newspaper, the Internet, a library."

"Those sound like good places to start though I'm vague about some of them."

"There's a library down the street if I'm remembering correctly. They might have old newspapers, microfilm maybe." Her phone didn't have any data, so she couldn't look anything up online. "If I can just find the end of the string, maybe I can begin to unravel it."

"That sounds like a plan." He stood, holding out a hand. She let him pull her to her feet. They started down the street, but Kyra paused as a car pulled into the driveway at her old house. She couldn't help but pause and stare at the family that got out. A mom and a dad with their young daughter. The daughter had long, black hair like hers. Kyra lost her breath a moment as the family walked up the front steps to the house, happy, unworried, unburdened. She felt a hand on her back and tore her eyes away. It would do no good to mourn what she couldn't have. That life was gone. Now she could only look ahead.

They found the library without too much trouble. Kyra had a vague memory of going there as a child. She'd always loved reading and often escaped to local libraries when her foster homes had become too stifling. She inquired about old newspapers at the front desk and was led over to a set of microfilm drawers. "Have you ever used one of these?" the librarian asked, and Kyra shook her head. She picked out the newspaper reels from the month her parents had been murdered and the librarian loaded them for her, showing her the ins and outs of the machine. Loki hovered, trying to look casual though Kyra could tell he was uncomfortable in his Midgard clothes.

Kyra sat down and began scrolling through the paper reels until she reached an article that had printed the day after the murder. It was an article she was familiar with having discovered it years later when she'd tried to learn more about her parents' deaths. Loki took a seat next to her, knees brushing hers. She began reading the article aloud. "On the evening of September 23rd, emergency vehicles responded to multiple calls throughout the sleepy Seattle suburb of Verdondale. Screams and crashing could be heard from inside one of the houses, and emergency responders arrived to find two dead. Names are currently being withheld but sources say a young girl has been found alive. Police are investigating."

She skipped ahead to an article the next day. This one was longer, flushed out as facts unfolded. "Scientists Sonya and David Winters were found dead in their family home at 11:34pm on Saturday, September 23rd. Police are currently investigating an Ansel Krentz, age 35. Police have confirmed a six-year-old daughter has been found alive and possible relatives are being tracked down. Her name has not been released. Police are also investigating possible allegations of illegal experimentation. A lab was found in the Winters' home with questionable liquids and devices. Hazmat was called in to investigate."

Kyra skipped forward to the following month. "October 30th. Links have been found between victims Sonya and David Winters, suspect Ansel Krentz, and the group known as Hydra. Hydra, once powerful during WWII, has been quiet since; however, paperwork was found linking the Winters to the group. Krentz had a record for aggravated assault and spent three years in prison before escaping during a prison riot. Krentz's fingerprints were found on a scalpel used to cut the victims' throats, but motive is unclear." There was a picture of Krentz, a mug shot, and Kyra shivered at the sight of it.

She looked over at Loki. "Ansel Krentz." She could picture him from her memories. Clouded eye, peeling skin, patchy hair. The stuff of nightmares. "They never found him. He has the answers I need."

"We don't even know if he's still alive."

"I think he is." She couldn't say how she knew, but the words sounded true when she said them aloud.

"Then how do we go about finding him?" Loki asked. "He could be anywhere."

"Or maybe he's closer than we think." Kyra was staring past him at a poster on a bulletin board. It was advertising a magic show at the Fifth Avenue Theater. The man on the poster was an illusionist. He wore a skeletal mask, but the eyes…one was a pale, sickly blue. The other was milky white and unseeing.


	23. Twenty-Two: Fight Lessons

**Twenty-Two** **–** **Fight Lessons**

It was strange being back in Midgard. Particularly because he was here to help a human. Had he gone soft? Loki glanced sideways at Kyra. They'd left the library after she'd memorized every bit of information on the poster. There was a show that night, and Kyra swore up and down that was the man that had killed her parents.

"It makes sense," she'd said in a hushed whisper as she stared at the poster. "He's hidden in plain sight. He had nowhere else to go, so he did the only thing he could do with his abilities."

"Humans are particularly gullible," Loki said, earning a scowl from Kyra.

"When the world gets too dark, we look to something impossible. It's entertainment," she'd told him. "People want to believe in magic."

He certainly would never have pictured himself here helping Kyra get answers. She wasn't just any human though. Maybe he had gone soft, but he wasn't fighting against it if he was being honest. The thought of Kyra going off to hunt down answers by herself had been unthinkable. She was still learning to use her abilities and though he didn't doubt her tenacity, he wasn't sure she knew just what she was getting into. He was also afraid of letting her go—afraid that if he did, she wouldn't come back. It was a frivolous fear, fraught with shaky logic and inevitable heartbreak. It would do him no good to get attached when mortal life was so fleeting.

He followed her still, unable to fathom turning her away, turning her loose to the world that would never accept or understand her. "….time to kill in the meantime." He realized Kyra was speaking and tuned into her words. The illusionist's show wasn't until ten that evening, so they had time to spare.

"Are you hungry?"

He was struck by the absurdity of such a simple question. Was he hungry? She'd traveled from an alternate dimension, another planet, had discovered her parents' murderer and was going to face him tonight, and she was asking if he was hungry. She had a much greater capacity than him for pretending everything was normal.

"It's not that difficult of a question," she said, and he realized he'd taken too long to answer.

"Not really." It was a lie, but he wasn't sure he trusted Midgardian cuisine.

"Liar." He silently cursed himself, forgetting for a moment she could see straight through his lies.

"What passes as food on Midgard?" he asked her. They'd reached a busy street, families bustling around. Screaming children, joggers in absurdly colored clothing, couples holding hands. A car honked, and traffic rushed by in sync with colored lights.

Kyra lifted a brow at him. "Rather discerning for never having eaten Midgardian food, aren't you?" she asked.

"Let's just say I'm not overly confident in it." He looked around at the storefronts. One advertised ice cream. Another burgers and fries. There was a pizzeria across the street. He knew what none of this tasted like, but the names alone sounded greasy and unappetizing.

"You're snobbish," Kyra told him accusatorily.

"Excuse me?" He turned to look at her.

"You heard me. Don't knock it til you try it." She looked comfortable. Confident. She fit in in a way he never would. Why did it bother him so much that she slid so comfortably back into the world that had turned her away? He skirted around the people on the streets, avoiding contact and wondering how none of them ran into something with their electronics two inches away from their faces.

"Let's eat here." Kyra grabbed his arm without warning, dragging him into a store to their right. A bell jangled in welcoming above the door, and a boy dressed in a uniform greeted them with a smile that, in Loki's opinion, was much too friendly.

"Welcome to Sailor Subs," the boy said, and Loki realized his uniform was some crude representation of a seaman. "What can I get you?"

"I'll order for you and then if you don't like it, you can blame it on me and not Earth as a whole," Kyra said, giving him a sly smile. She turned and scanned the menu above the counter. "Two Turkey Trawlers," she said, and Loki tried not to gag at the name. "It's a novelty," she said, passing over some money.

"I will never begin to understand humans." They took seats at a questionably clean table, the hard plastic of the chair decidedly uncomfortable. Kyra rested her elbows on the table, settling her chin on her balled fists.

"I know," she said, a smile tugging her lips. "It's quite amusing."

"I'm glad you find my disdain for humanity so amusing."

"You're rather prickly," Kyra noted. "Ever since we arrived on Earth. I think it still stings a little." She didn't say it unkindly, but he felt his hackles rising all the same. It did still sting, and he didn't appreciate being reminded of it.

"Yes, well, the sooner we can get back to Asgard, the better." He knew he'd said the wrong thing as her smile slipped, turning tight, forced. He could see the hurt in her eyes though she tried to hide it.

"I'll try to hurry it up then," she said coolly.

"I didn't mean it like that," he said, reaching a hand forward only to pull it back abruptly as the faux sailor dropped a tray between them.

"I know you didn't," Kyra said, unwrapping her sandwich. "But I'm not exactly sure why you're here."

This didn't feel like the place for that conversation, but he had little choice. There were two other people in the restaurant, sitting three tables away. They seemed wrapped up in their sandwiches. The cashier was busy scrubbing down the counter, so Loki turned back to Kyra, lowering his voice just in case.

"I'm here because I want to be," he said.

"Could have fooled me."

Okay, perhaps not his most compelling argument. "I want to help because I know what it's like to not know your past. I know what it's like to be lied to. Maybe we connect in a way that I've never experienced with anyone before." Why were words so difficult all of a sudden? Usually he was silver-tongued, quick with his words, the master manipulator. With Kyra he lost track of his thoughts and stumbled over his words. It threw him off, made him feel unbalanced. He didn't like that feeling, but he didn't want to leave. There was something dangerous and intoxicating about being thrown off balance by this mortal girl.

Kyra's eyes softened. "Eat your sandwich," was all she said, but he knew he was forgiven. Truthfully, the sandwich wasn't half bad, but Loki refused to admit it as they threw away their trash after they'd finished. Kyra snatched two mints from the counter and tossed him one, happily sucking on her own.

"You seem remarkably calm all things considered," he commented as they walked down the sidewalk.

Kyra shrugged, hunching her shoulders forward as she shoved her hands in her pockets. "I'm not really," she admitted. "I'm terrified." Her eyes flitted to him, and she saw a flash of fear behind them. "I don't know what to expect. It seems too easy and yet, what am I supposed to do? I'm not a warrior, not a sorcerer. It's an illusion—getting answers, getting justice; it's never that easy."

"Well, I know we can fix two of those problems before tonight," Loki said, and Kyra cocked her head at him. "Well, try to. You asked if I'd continue training you."

"Right. We do have some time to kill. I might know of a place we can practice."

…

They found an abandoned warehouse next to some train tracks. The side of the building was coated in graffiti and tags, and it looked like the kind of place where one might get mugged. Kyra felt a sense of ease with Loki by her side; however, and the area seemed abandoned. She pushed the doors to the warehouse open, letting light stream in across the bare cement floor.

"I want to be able to defend myself," she told him. "Illusions wear me out quickly and can only do so much." She shrugged off her jacket and then her long-sleeved shirt, stripping down to a black tank top. Loki set his sweatshirt aside and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows.

"Hand-to-hand combat isn't learned in hours, but we can start with the basics," he said.

"I just want to learn something." She tied her long, black hair in a ponytail.

"The first thing to learn is that most everyone you'll ever fight will have the advantage of weight and height on you," he said. "You need to learn to use your own strengths. You're small. You have speed your side. You can slip out of someone's grasp if you're fast enough. Everyone has a weakness. It's your job to figure out what that weakness is and exploit it."

"I'm supposed to believe someone like you has a weakness?" Kyra asked. She seriously doubted that.

He tipped his head to the side. "Let's just hope you won't be fighting any gods. Any _other_ gods," he added with a smirk as he started to circle her.

"Do your worst," she challenged, arching a brow at him.

He moved so quickly she could do nothing to try to defend herself. Arms wrapped around her middle, pinning her arms down. She lost her breath a moment, his chest warn against her back. She squirmed in his grip but his strength was, quite literally, super-human, and it did absolutely no good. "No fair."

"I believe you offered the challenge." His breath was close to her ear, minty and cool. A shiver ran down her back. _Everyone has a weakness. It's your job to figure out what that weakness is and exploit it._ Kyra wouldn't win with physical strength.

She relaxed in his grip, back braced against him. She tipped her head back, angling it upward so that her breath whispered against his throat. His grip on her loosened ever so slightly, and she managed to angle her body closer to him. "You're strong," she admitted, lowering her lashes as he met her gaze. His eyes were hungry, glinting green in the dim light of the warehouse. She parted her lips slightly, well aware of the affect she was having on him as his pupils widened, gaze watching her every movement. Their breath mingled as Kyra tilted her head up. His hands loosened, slipping from around her down to her hips as she turned to face him. She could feel the heat of his skin through the fabric of her tank top. She put a hand over his heart, and felt the telltale drumming. He could try to hide his emotions, but she could see them just the same. It thrilled her and frightened her. What was she getting herself into? Their lips brushed ever so slightly, and Kyra spoke against them. "But even you have a weakness." Before he could react, she'd hooked a leg around his, pulling his foot out from under him and shoving against his chest with all her might.

They fell to the floor in a pile, Kyra triumphantly on top, hands braced against his shoulders, knee to his chest. She grinned down at him while he blinked up at her in surprise. "No fair," he echoed her earlier words, sounding a little breathless.

Kyra shrugged. "It worked."

He scowled at her, but she could tell he wasn't really angry. Angry with himself, perhaps. She got to her feet, holding out a hand to him. He took it, rolling gracefully to his feet. "I thought you wanted to learn how to _fight_."

Kyra tossed her ponytail over her shoulder, smirking at him. "You said to exploit my opponent's weakness," she said, mocking his previous words.

"That is not going to be your opponent's weakness," he said, keeping his distance. She noticed he didn't correct her, didn't try to argue that she _wasn't_ his weakness.

"Fine," she said. "Show me how to break out of your grip _without_ my charm."

The next hour consisted of Kyra sweating profusely while Loki stayed infuriatingly unflappable. She didn't manage to catch him off guard again, but she picked up on some techniques and, most importantly, didn't feel so helpless anymore.

"I think I've had enough," she told him breathlessly, holding up a hand to pause their training. Now what she really wanted was a shower. She had enough money for a hotel room, and they still had several hours before the show.

"Let's find somewhere to rest a bit. Well, for me to rest," she corrected. "We can come up with some sort of plan for tonight." Nerves twisted her stomach now that the welcome distraction of training was gone. She grabbed her shirt, jacket, and bag.

They took a cab to the theater, finding a hotel nearby with a view of the theater. As they stepped into the room, Kyra suddenly felt nervous. She glanced at Loki who was studying the room, eyes giving nothing away. "I'm going to shower," Kyra said, grabbing a change of clothes and locking herself in the bathroom.

She ran the water until it steamed the room, letting it soak through her skin until the scald was too much. She wrapped herself in a towel and wiped a streak across the mirror. Now that she had dropped all her masks, Kyra could see the raw fear behind her eyes. She braced her hands on the bathroom counter, taking deep breaths as her pulse fluttered spastically beneath her wrists. She counted backwards from ten before drying herself off and changing into fresh clothes. Her damp hair clung to her shoulders, and she braided it back in a neat plait.

Loki was looking out the window when she returned, hands folded neatly behind his back. She envied his composure. His ability to look calm and collected in any situation. He turned to survey her. The room suddenly felt too small.

"We need a plan," she said, folding her legs up under her on one of the beds. He nodded, coming to sit across from her on the other bed. She was grateful for the distance however small it was. She had trouble concentrating when he was close these days. "I say we watch the show, see what he's capable of. The audience is expecting an illusionist, but we know he's more than that. Afterwards…we confront him." She didn't know what that would look like. She wasn't too sure her interrogation skills were up to par considering she'd literally never interrogated someone before. Knowing her, her voice would probably come out squeaky or something.

"Do you want answers?" Loki asked her. "Or revenge? They're very different things."

"I know that." Kyra bit her lip. What had she had in mind when she'd said she wanted revenge? Suddenly the thought of it made her sick. What exactly had she planned on doing? "I want answers. Without them, revenge means nothing. And I don't think my parents would want me to do anything that compromised who I am. I'm not a killer. I doubt there's any way to see justice for what he's done, but answers are a start. That might have to be enough."

"What if you weren't the one to take revenge?"

Kyra's eyes flashed to him. His face was deadly serious. "Are you volunteering to kill him?" She felt sick just talking about taking someone's life. That wasn't the way the world worked. Perhaps in Asgard, but not here. But then she pictured her parents, their throats slit, her childhood gone. Was she going to let their murderer walk free?

"I can't ask you to do that," she finally said, hating that a part of her was disappointed. Loki shrugged. To him it was no big deal, and she tried to tell herself it didn't bother him. Had he thought about the lives taken during the Battle of New York? The innocent bystanders who'd been killed because of his attack? She didn't want to acknowledge that, but she'd be blind not to.

"It bothers you." He read the emotions on her face, and she saw him pull up walls, leaving her cold on the other side.

"It's just different for you," she told him. "You're Asgardian. You grew up on war."

His eyes were shuttered as he responded. "And that makes me a killer."

"I didn't say that." Kyra didn't know the right words to say. "I just meant I'm not a soldier. Not a warrior. I've never had to make a call like that."

"If he tries to hurt you, I make no promises that I won't kill him." Loki's voice came out in a low growl. Kyra felt her heart beat a little faster. He was serious. He'd kill to protect her, and she didn't know if that sickened her or comforted her. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. "You don't want me to kill him." Loki was watching her carefully, and she thought the light in his eyes was somewhat predatory.

"No," she told him, meeting his gaze. "My parents' murder is a cold case. What if we hand him over to the authorities? He gets served justice, and I get revenge in my own way."

"Is that truly the revenge you want?" Loki leaned forward, giving her a keen look that unsettled her. She looked away.

"I don't think I'll know until I'm standing in front of him, picturing him standing over my dead parents with a bloody scalpel in his hand." And that scared her more than she could say. It scared her that she _didn't_ know what she would do.

"You don't have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable." He moved to sit next to her, and she turned to look at him. His face was sincere, but she shook her head at his words.

"Sometimes you don't get a choice."

"I won't let that happen tonight." His shoulder brushed hers, but he didn't try to touch her. He was waiting. Waiting for her to pull away. Waiting for her to move closer. She needed to be focused tonight, but she was finding it hard to focus on anything. She forced herself to stand, putting a little distance between them. "I'm going to get some fresh air," she told him. "Just a walk around the block."

He didn't try to stop her as she left, and she realized she was always walking away.


	24. Twenty-Three: The Illusionist

**Author's Note:** I have gotten some very lovely reviews that have made me so happy - thank you so much! And thank you for the new favorites and follows. You guys are awesome. I'm having such a fun time writing this story and hope to have another chapter up soon!

* * *

 **Twenty-Three – The Illusionist**

The theater was in an old, square building with a brick façade and a marquee lit up with brilliant red letters that glared against the night. People lined up outside the ticket booth to get in, and Loki wondered at how many had turned up for the magic show. Kyra was nervous next to him, twisting a lock of hair around her fingers over and over. She'd exchanged her ripped jeans for a black dress picked up somewhere when she'd been out earlier. She'd kept her Asgardian boots and donned a pair of long, golden earrings that swung lightly from her ears. He'd returned to his black suit and pants and saw that most of the people in line were dressed up. Though Kyra was dressed simply, he was having a hard time keeping his eyes off of her. He thought back to earlier in the hotel room when she'd moved away from him, trying to ignore the prickle of hurt. He wasn't used to being rejected, wasn't used to not getting his way. He found it both irritating and irresistible. He swallowed hard and tried to focus on the mission. Now wasn't the time to think about whatever feelings he may or may not be developing for her. It never seemed to be the time.

The line moved slowly forward, and Kyra took an unsteady step, catching herself on his arm and then quickly drawing away. He could hear her breath coming out in short pants, and her skin was unusually pale. He reached out to slide his fingers into hers, and she jumped at the contact. She gave him a wide-eyed look but didn't pull away, drawing closer instead until their arms were flush, and he could feel the warmth of her skin against him. "You're fine," he said softly. She nodded ever so slightly, her breathing slowing a hair. "He doesn't even know you're here."

Kyra didn't speak, but she clung onto his hand tighter, taking comfort in the connection. It felt natural in a way Loki hadn't experienced in a very long time. If ever. His and Amora's relationship had always been about passion and fire and was often a test of will and abilities. With Kyra it was certainly a test of wills, but it was more. It was different. _She_ was different. There was something safe about her. Something comforting. She grounded him, challenged him. But unlike with Amora, she didn't hold expectations over his head. Perhaps the expectation to be a better person, but she wasn't ambitious or cruel as Amora had been. She wouldn't take pleasure in crushing his heart like Amora had.

"Two tickets?" Loki came back to reality as the man at the ticket booth spoke. They'd reached the front of the line, the illuminated light of the marquee casting them both in an angry shade of red.

"Yes, please," Kyra replied, tapping Loki's arm. He handed over the money she'd asked him to hold onto. He didn't understand how the crinkled, dirty pieces of paper counted as money, but humans seemed to be particularly obsessed with it.

"That'll be forty dollars." Kyra passed over two bills, and the man exchanged them for two tickets. Kyra clutched them in her free hand as they passed into the dim interior of the building.

As far as Midgardian architecture went, Loki was fairly impressed with the interior of the theater. Rows and rows of scarlet padded seats filled the space leading up to the stage. Rich paneling decorated the walls, and an eight-pointed star loomed overhead, a golden dragon spouting out a drooping chandelier. Phoenixes circled it in a myriad of blues, yellows, oranges, and greens. They found seats near the outside edge of the aisle, five rows back from the stage. Kyra immediately began tapping the heel of her boot against the seat. Her nerves were contagious, and Loki put a hand on her knee to stop the anxious motion. Her skin was warm to the touch. He half expected her brush his hand aside, but she seemed to calm at his touch.

Kyra turned her body toward him, eyes dark spheres in the dim theater. He dipped his head toward her, waiting for a reaction. She didn't speak, but somehow he could still hear what she couldn't put into words. She smiled at him, hesitant at first but then more genuine. He knew she was worried, mourning her parents after her brush with her memories; that smile was all for him. Her eyes lit up, the flecks of amber shining like polished gems. Then she was leaning toward him as the lights began to dim, the spotlight centering on the scarlet curtains on stage.

Kyra's lips brushed his, and he leaned into her. Her fingers brushed his cheek for a moment. She pulled away too quickly, and he was left aching for more of her touch. "Thank you," she whispered before she turned away from him. He didn't know what she was thanking him for: for being there with her, for trying to still her nerves, for offering to kill her parents' murderer? He felt her hand slide over his where it rested on her knee, fingers sliding between his as the show began.

As Loki's eyes adjusted to the dark theater, he noted that a good portion of the red seats had been filled. People eager for an escape from the mediocrity of everyday life. They wanted something spectacular, something fantastical. They wanted magic. Loki's lip curled up at the thought. He wanted to call it petty, but he understood in a way. Everyone was searching for something more than they had. He should know that better than anyone.

"Ladies and gentlemen," came a deep voice from the stage. Loki focused on the figure, dressed in all black and wearing charcoal around sharp, blue eyes. Ink markings worked their way up his arms and his lip was pierced. Mortals were so odd, defacing their bodies with little thought to how they might feel decades later. Perhaps it was just that he had lived for so long and would live for much longer. He understood regret, much as he hated to admit it. But perhaps it meant something to mortals. Perhaps some of them decorated their skin with care, with something meaningful to them. Loki wasn't sure anything meant that much to him. He had what he'd wanted—the throne of Asgard. His father and brother gone. He should be satisfied, but satisfaction was not in his nature. He was always wanting something more. Always reaching. Maybe he wasn't so unlike this audience after all.

"Tonight we have a treat for you. This man, this _magician_ , has made a name for himself in our great city. He is the master of illusions, the king of magic." Loki had to snort at this. "Ladies and gentlemen, it is my honor to introduce The Amazing Ansel, the Illusionist." The audience clapped as the presenter stepped aside and the curtains were drawn. He heard Kyra's sharp intake of breath, felt her hand tighten around his.

The man standing on the stage wore a skeletal mask, but there was no mistaking those eyes behind—one a pale, sickly blue, the other white and unseeing as the day he'd murdered Kyra's parents. His costume hid any deformities the serum had caused, the mask rounding around his ghastly cheek. He threw his arms out wide, and the audience began to cheer. Kyra's teeth were gritted, flashing white in the darkness. One hand ground itself into the arm of the chair, nails denting the padding. If she could scream the truth to the audience, she would, and he knew it pained her to see the murderer's success after he'd destroyed her life and altered her future.

Krentz waited for the cheering to cease until the last smattering of hand claps died. "I have a treat for you tonight," he told the audience. "A touch of magic…" He flicked his hands, covered in fine black gloves. A dove appeared, flying upward to the beams above the stage. The audience gasped. "A touch of illusion." Behind him flames leapt up, appearing to lick the curtains before fading into nothing. The audience was riveted now, but Loki wasn't impressed by the petty tricks. He didn't feel the same need to show off his magic. It was more a tool than a trick, a part of his identity fitting so tightly to him it was something akin to breathing. For feeling resentful for having been experimented on, Krentz was certainly taking full advantage of his abilities now. "And…" Krentz paused dramatically, "...a touch of the impossible." Another flick of his fingers, and the props on the stage rose up from their resting places, wobbling in the air.

What Loki found the most laughable was that the audience was, in fact, witnessing real magic—however artificial—and yet none would believe it even though they'd come here for a show, come here _wanting_ to believe. Irony at its finest.

Krentz dropped the items gently back into their places, grinning at the response. He loved the attention, Loki realized. He'd taken something he hated and turned it into something else entirely. Something that empowered him, something that made him superior. The same thing that had made Kyra an outsider.

Krentz turned to his stage to begin his show. It started out with what Loki imagined were typical magic tricks. The audience couldn't get enough of them, and Loki could see how a mortal might find the tricks astonishing. Kyra never released his hand, and he could see her jaw working when he turned to glance at her.

The show went on for a good hour before Krentz announced his final act. The people in the audience were on the edge of their seats, eyes wide with wonderment. "For my final act, I'm going to need a volunteer from the audience."

Krentz looked out over the audience as hands rose all over. The lights brightened slightly so that he could see their faces. Then, to Loki's surprise, Kyra let go of his hand and raised it into the air just as Krentz's eyes passed over their section of the audience. His eyes caught on Kyra, the corners of his masked mouth lifting ever so slightly.

"That young lady there," he said, pointing at Kyra with a flourish. "Come on up."

"What are you doing?" Loki hissed as she got up from her seat, squeezing past him.

She didn't answer, just gave him tight smile as she approached the stage. Loki didn't know what she was planning. He didn't think she'd confront him so publicly but he had to admit as Kyra climbed the steps to the stage, she looked more an Asgardian warrior than a frightened mortal. She centered herself on the stage, repressing her emotions as Krentz circled her like a predator. Kyra stood still, looking emotionless though Loki knew she was anything but.

"For my final act, I will transform this girl into…" He paused dramatically for the audience, eyes searching the crowd for their reaction. "...a wolf."

Shape shifting. Interesting. Loki wasn't convinced he could do it, but he watched with both eagerness and trepidation. Kyra's face gave no indication of her emotions, letting Krentz usher her into a large glass box. Kyra stepped in, and Krentz stood to the side. His bone mask gleamed maniacally, giving his face a glowing quality, a mockery of the corpse-like skin beneath. Smoke rose within the glass box, and Krentz pressed his hands to the side, a glow rising from his palms. Most likely he was going to use a simple illusion to make the audience believe in the transformation.

Loki realized he was leaning forward in his seat, eyes glued to the box as the smoke cleared. There was a collective gasp from the audience and then the shiver of whispers all around him. In Kyra's place stood a black wolf with glowing amber eyes. Kyra's eyes only two shades brighter. He couldn't tell if it was an illusion or if Krentz really was capable of shape shifting. He gritted his teeth in frustration. He didn't share Kyra's ability for seeing through illusions though it had never been an issue before. The wolf gave a growl, and Loki saw a flash of fear on Krentz's face. He realized something with a jolt; Kyra was in control of the wolf. In control of the illusion. And she was turning it on Krentz.

He watched to see what she would do, riveted by the fear on Krentz's face. Something stirred in him, a familiar itch of bloodlust. Loki wasn't a warrior. He didn't particularly enjoy killing or getting his hands dirty. But here stood a man who had plenty of blood on his hands, and it was satisfying to see fear on his face. The audience didn't seem to notice that anything was wrong, and Loki felt a twinge of disappointment. Now _that_ would have made for an interesting show.

The wolf gave another feral growl, approaching Krentz slowly, carefully, eyes never wavering from his face. Krentz held up his hands as if to try to regain control of the illusion. Kyra wasn't letting it go, and Loki felt a swell of pride. He also worried. Kyra couldn't hold illusions for long—not without it taking a toll on her. Then the wolf stopped and turned, reentering the glass box. Krentz hurried to shut the door, pressing his hands against it. There was no glow to his hands this time, but the smoke rose once more before fading. In place of the wolf stood Kyra, a faint smile on her face. He was relieved to see no blood flowing from her nose, no pallor to her cheeks.

She walked from the box, her eyes locked on Krentz. The audience was cheering, rising to their feet, hands claps ringing across the theater. Kyra stood a moment too long on the stage, just long enough to make sure she'd relayed her message though no words passed her lips. She wanted Krentz to remember her. From the look on his face, he did.

Kyra finally pulled her eyes away, walking back to her seat while Krentz stood in stunned silence. As the applause continued, he seemed to come to himself, throwing up his arms and giving a bow. Kyra nodded for Loki to follow her, slipping through a dark door to the side of the stage. He followed her, their escape going unnoticed in the dark. They were now in a dim hallway, sconces casting long shadows along the walls. A sign indicated where the dressing rooms were, and they found Krentz's without much trouble.

"He'll try to run," Kyra said. "But he'll stop here first." She opened the door, and they stepped into a cramped room with costumes flung here and there. A dressing table held an array of props.

"That was an impressive demonstration," Loki said, leaning his back against the wall.

"Krentz created the illusion," Kyra told him, running her fingers over the rim of a top hat that lay upside-down on the dressing table. "But I took control of it."

Loki cocked his head. He'd never heard of someone _controlling_ someone else's illusion.

"It didn't drain me of energy like creating my own illusion." Her eyes flitted to his. "I wanted to show him what I could do. What _he_ did to me."

"He was afraid of you." Loki couldn't read the expression on Kyra's face, couldn't tell if this satisfied or frightened her.

Then the doorknob turned and Krentz surged into the room, shutting himself in with them before he saw them. Loki created an illusion of himself to block the door as Krentz turned on his heels. He backed into a rack of costumes, falling for the illusion. His eyes flashed to Kyra, and now Loki could read the hate in her eyes.

"You know who I am," she said, stepping between him and the door as Loki's illusion faded.

"How did you find me?" he asked, and Kyra laughed at the question, an empty, humorless sound.

"You weren't exactly hiding."

"But after all these years…" Krentz was ignoring Loki altogether. Something about Kyra unnerved him. He had forced her to inject herself with the serum, but he didn't know what she could do. He didn't know the extent of her abilities.

"Do you really think fourteen years is long enough to get over watching my parents be murdered? Do you really think I'd just let you get away with it?" Kyra's tone was steady, incredulous even. Loki couldn't hear any fear in it, but he could see the way her hands were shaking. He knew she was frightened though she kept up an illusion of bravery.

"Always the heroes your parents."

"Excuse me?"

Krentz looked angry now, standing a little straighter, one good eye flashing. Up close he smelled vaguely of rotting flesh. "Do you think I asked to have my brain poked and prodded by them? Did you actually think I signed up for their experiments?" He took a step toward Kyra, and Loki slid one of his knives into his hand, ready if Krentz tried anything.

"What they did to you wasn't right," Kyra said. "But that doesn't justify you slitting their throats and leaving me an orphan." Her voice broke a little, and Loki knew her calm was an illusion. Inside she was a riot of emotions.

"They turned me into a monster." Krentz dragged the mask off his face, revealing the mutilated skin beneath. Kyra flinched. Hard. Loki knew she was reliving the memories of her parents' deaths again. She'd broken the illusion though. Now Krentz knew she was scared, knew his ghastly appearance gave him an advantage. He took another step forward. Loki slid out his second knife. "No one gave me a choice. At least I gave you one."

Kyra studied him a moment, a muscle feathering in her jaw, twitching with unsaid words, with bottled emotions. "You had a choice. You had a choice not to kill them. But you did. Even after I took the serum, you murdered my mom in front of me. I'm sorry for what they did to you. It was wrong, and I freely admit that. But they didn't make you a monster. You can't change what's already there."

Krentz scowled. His eyes flitted over Loki briefly. "Another illusionist?" he asked. Kyra's eyes followed his gaze.

"A much better one than you'll ever be," she returned.

"Are you sure about that?" She turned back to Krentz, eyes widening.

The door slammed, and the Krentz standing before them faded. He'd taken the brief moment of distraction to escape, and Loki cursed himself for not seeing it happen. He'd been watching Krentz the whole time. "An illusion." Kyra was already wrenching the door open. She ran down the hall. "Can you block the doors with your illusions?" she asked.

"Yes." He sent out illusions of himself to each of the exits in the building. They'd made sure they knew where they were just in case Krentz tried to run. There was always a chance he'd simply run straight through the illusions, but Loki was hoping he wouldn't take that chance. He clearly didn't want to fight. He was probably remembering six-year-old Kyra throwing him into a wall hard enough to knock him unconscious.

A door slammed somewhere up ahead, and they ran faster, ducking past confused employees and actors. "He's headed to the roof," Kyra said as they came to a door. She shoved it open, ignoring the man behind them who called out, "Hey, you can't go up there!" They lunged up the stairs, the cold cement walls pressing in around them.

Kyra stumbled, and Loki caught her around the waist, helping her up before she could fall. She nodded her thanks, too out of breath to speak aloud. Another flight of stairs and they reached the door to the roof. Kyra pulled it open, charging out onto the roof and into a gust of wind and rain. It had started storming while they'd been inside, and visibility was tricky. Only the leering glow of the marquee provided them with any real light.

"Why would he come up here?" Kyra asked.

Loki didn't have an answer to that. It was a dead end.

"You know the funny thing?" Krentz's voice came from the edge of the building. Kyra and Loki stepped forward in unison, Loki's knives gripped tightly in his fists, glinting red in the electric light. They caught sight of Krentz. He stood with his back facing them, gazing out over the city. His hands were in his pockets. He seemed calm. "They hadn't perfected the serum. They never got the chance." He turned to survey them, a smile tugging up the ruined cheek. Loki swallowed down revulsion.

"What do you mean?" Kyra's voice barely carried above the wind and rain.

Krentz's smile grew. He loved an audience, and now he would put on a show, drawing out his words with languid inflections. "The serum you injected yourself with was an improvement. It didn't result in the same… _flaws_ that mine did. But…" He paused as he had on stage. Kyra wasn't so patient.

" _But_?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"But that one had a flaw too. I heard them talking. It wasn't ready, and Hydra was putting pressure on them to get a final result, a perfected serum so they could start distributing it. You might look a picture of health." He ran his eye over her, and Kyra shivered. Loki's knuckles were white from his death grip on his knives. "But inside your head, it's a mess. I'm surprised it hasn't already taken affect." Confusion lit his eye.

"What are you talking about?"

"It's damaging your brain," Krentz sneered at her. "Side affects may include dizziness, nose-bleeds, permanent brain damage, _death_. The more you use your abilities, the more damage you inflict."

Kyra had no words. Loki's mind buzzed as he thought of her fainting spells after casting illusions, the blood running from her nose. _No._ It couldn't be true.

"Even if you don't use your abilities, it'll eventually kill you."

"You're lying," Kyra whispered. Krentz heard her. He laughed, a horrible, guttural sound. The sound of a man with nothing to lose.

"It's already started, hasn't it? You're already dying." He kept laughing until his laughs turned into coughs and flecks of blood hit his hand. "Just like me."

"You did this to me." There was murder in Kyra's voice. She took a step toward Krentz.

"You had a choice. You made the one that led you down this path." Krentz took a step back as she took another step forward.

"I was trying to save my mom!" Kyra shouted. "But you lied. You said you would spare her, but you lied." Her voice splintered, shattering into tiny pinpricks of pain.

"Too bad you couldn't see through that lie before I took her life."

Kyra let out a furious howl, running toward Krentz and throwing out her hands. He flew back a few paces before bracing himself with an invisible shield. Loki hadn't realized Kyra could so that. How much more to her powers was there that they didn't know about? How much more would send her over the edge? Break her beyond repair?

Whatever she could do, Kyra had only had her powers for a brief time. Krentz had had them much longer.

He pushed back, sending her falling to the cement rooftop, skidding backwards. As Loki reached down to help her up, Kyra shouted, "No!" and Loki turned to see that Krentz had positioned himself on the edge of the roof. He was still facing them, but he stretched out his arms like flightless wings on either side of him.

"I don't think I'll give you the satisfaction of killing me." He stepped backwards and disappeared. His final act, but this time it was no illusion.


	25. Twenty-Four: Breaking Down

**Twenty-Four – Breaking Down**

Kyra rushed to the edge of the roof, but it was too late. Krentz lay spread eagle on the ground far below, red seeping around the edges of his head. Screams went up from the street, and Kyra pulled away, unable to look anymore. She was shaking but whether from the rain soaking into her skin or her fury at having lost her chance at answers, her chance at justice, she didn't know.

Sirens pierced the air several blocks away, muffled under the roar of the storm. Kyra's dress was plastered to her skin and her hair lay in soggy clumps down her back. She let out a scream that was raw and guttural, a sound that frightened her though it felt wonderful to let it out. Loki stood watching her, his gaze holding no judgment, nothing but understanding. He understood her frustration, her fury. The knives hung loosely in his hands now that he no longer needed them.

As the reality set in and Kyra began to realize she'd get no revenge for Krentz's crimes, another emotion settled in. Fear. Krentz had said she was dying, that the serum was killing her. Instinct made her want to discount anything he said, but she knew how much her illusions took out of her. Nosebleeds, falling unconscious...

Krentz had seemed surprised that she was still alive. Perhaps the drugs had slowed the process. She hadn't even known about her abilities until recently. What if that had been the only thing keeping her alive all this time?

"Kyra?" Loki said her name tentatively. His black hair was soaked through, rivulets of rain flowing down his face. "Let's get you inside." His compassion should have been comforting, but she found she wanted his fury, his anger. But standing out in the rain would do them no good and so she nodded, letting him guide her back inside, out of the storm. She hardly noticed the long walk back down the winding stairs just Loki's hand on her back, gently guiding her.

The theater was in chaos down below, flashing lights blinding in the darkness. They melted into the gathered crowd, walking in silence back to the hotel. Kyra felt drained, the adrenaline she'd felt onstage melting into exhaustion. Back in their hotel room, Kyra grabbed a towel from the bathroom and began to work the excess water from her hair. She felt numb. It had all happened so fast.

Loki hovered. His clothes and hair were just as wet as hers but he made no move to dry himself off. He watched her like she was a time bomb about to go off. He waited for her to speak first, but words were impossible. She felt lost, frightened, left with more questions than she'd had even before. Was she dying? That question stood out first and foremost. She brought her eyes to Loki's tears poised to fall. She felt broken, familiar panic welling up within her.

Loki seemed to realize this, wordlessly stepping forward. He took the towel from her, tossing it aside, heedless to how damp it was. Then he took her hands in his. Kyra melted under his touch, the tears falling in a rush. She felt weak, vulnerable in a way she'd never allowed herself to be in front of anyone before. She'd built so many walls, bottled up her emotions for so long. She should have felt afraid, cautious of letting him see her vulnerability. But she didn't. Not with Loki, even if he'd never shown his own vulnerability to her willingly. But she had seen it even still. She knew he'd built up walls just like her, bottled up emotions until they burst out in anger and frustration. She was terrified now, and all she wanted was someone to hold her, to tell her it was going to be all right though it wouldn't be.

He frowned though she couldn't read the emotions on his face, in his eyes. Then he reached up a hand and brushed her tears away with his thumb. "Am I going to die?" she asked, the words choking out of her throat. She knew he didn't have the answer to that question, but she had to ask it.

"I'm not going to let that happen," he said, and the fierce determination in his eyes surprised her. They glowed blue and green, the colors merging like watercolors.

Kyra forced a smile. "Mortality has never felt so short."

"Don't say that." He put both his hands on her face now, pushing aside her damp hair. She leaned into his touch, his skin cool against hers. There was pain in his eyes now. Raw, open pain that she had never seen before. Her heart pounded a little faster. Her thoughts and fears and memories threatened to consume her. She wanted to let herself be consumed by his gaze, wanted to sink into it and forget everything that had happened. Loki's hands came to rest on her shoulders, and she pressed her hands to his chest where the fabric of his shirt clung to the contours and planes of his skin below. He was warm to the touch despite the damp clothing and his rain-cooled hands. She reached up on her toes, pressing her lips to his. He hesitated at first, and she knew her emotions were a roller coaster now. All she wanted was to lose herself in him, to have him kiss her into oblivion until all she could remember was the touch of his lips to hers, the feel of his skin and the warmth of his body.

He slowly kissed her back, hands falling to rest on her hips where her dress clung to her. It wasn't enough. She could still picture Krentz jumping from the building, his body splayed on the pavement. She kissed Loki harder, sliding her hands up so they rested behind his neck. He still wasn't close enough. She pressed against him, their bodies flush. His fingers tightened on her hips, and she could feel his heart beating faster. Kyra didn't feel so cold anymore. She was beginning to fall into him, mind forgetting her worries. They broke apart for air, and his eyes searched hers, his grip loosening. She held on tighter.

"Please," she whispered. "I just want to forget." She knew it was for the wrong reasons, but she knew they both wanted this, both wanted to be closer, both wanted more of each other. She didn't give him a chance to respond, kissing him again, running her fingers through his soft hair, the damp waves that had begun to dry from the warmth of the room.

"Kyra are you sure this is what you need?" Loki asked softly, pulling away from her ever so slightly so he could meet her eyes.

"Yes," she breathed, cupping his face and bringing it back down to hers. He slid one hand up her back, and she shivered under his touch as his hand met with her bare skin where the back of the dress scooped, fingers running over her spine. It didn't take much convincing because she knew he wanted to keep kissing her too. She was was flushed now, and she hardly felt the rain as it dried on her skin. She parted her lips, breathing him in, tasting him. Her heartbeats were sporadic now, pulse racing. She knew she was close to losing control but that didn't scare her. Not with him though it should have. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons on his dress shirt, and she was surprised when he carefully clasped her hands, pulling back. His pupils were wide, and he was just as breathless as she was.

He shook his head. "Not like this," he said softly. Kyra tried to draw back, feeling hurt and embarrassment, but he kept a gentle hold on her. "You're hurting, and I would do anything to take away that pain, but I'm not going to take advantage of it."

She held his gaze for a moment, taking the chance to catch her breath. Then she nodded. He was right. Of course he was right. Her emotions were unbalanced, out of control, and it wasn't fair to use him to forget even if what she felt for him was genuine. The strength of her feelings toward him surprised her. They'd grown so strong without her realizing, and now she wondered why she'd denied them for so long.

"I'm going to change into dry clothes," she told him. She needed a moment to center herself. "After that...I just want to be near you. You make me feel safe."

Something moved across his eyes, something happy, surprised, _grateful_. He nodded then, letting her go. "I'm not going anywhere," he told her.

She slipped into the bathroom, changing back into her worn jeans and a T-shirt, taking several deep breaths to calm herself. She blinked at her reflection in the mirror, her scared, wide eyes dark. She now felt embarrassed for throwing herself at Loki. She didn't know what had come over her—the desperation to forget, she supposed. It wasn't fair to use him as a distraction, and she hoped she hadn't broken this tentative thing between them. She forced herself to open the door.

Loki was back in his more casual Midgardian clothes looking as if he'd never been out in the rain. He reclined on one of the beds, back rested against the headboard. Kyra hesitated, standing unsurely in the doorway. Loki's eyes met hers and then he moved over, an invitation for her to sit beside him. She sat down carefully, tentative now. Her cheeks heated at the thought of her passion minutes before.

"Come here," Loki said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Kyra pulled her legs up onto the bed, turning toward him as he wrapped an arm around her. Suddenly she didn't feel so awkward. She nestled against his warm body, resting her head on his chest just below his chin. One of his hands rested lightly on her side while the other brushed her arm, fingers gently tickling her shoulder. She relaxed, her heart finally slowing. She let the silence stretch out finding that the memories remained at bay while Loki's thumb rubbed gentle circles on her arm.

"What now?" she finally asked aloud, asking herself more than him. Krentz had been her only clue, her only lead to finding answers. Maybe she already had the answers she was looking for, and she just refused to believe the truth that was staring her in the face. Her parents had done bad things. They'd experimented on a person. Perhaps not an innocent one, but that didn't excuse what they'd done. The serum in the hands of an organization like Hydra could come at catastrophic cost. Her parents had to have known that. Had they gotten in too deep? That much was clear, but had they even tried to get out? How had what they'd done been protecting her? In the end, she hadn't been protected. She'd been left to face the monster they'd created.

"What more do you need to know?" Loki asked her. She knew what he was asking: what would satisfy her? What would give her the closure she needed? She wished she had the answer. She pressed her face into his collar, breathing in his scent: something like fresh, stormy air and some spice she couldn't place. She rested her hand on his chest, feeling the faint outline of his ribs beneath the muscles.

She took a long, rattling breath. "I want to know…" She gathered her words. She'd been too afraid to voice them before, but she had to say them now. "I want to know if they really were monsters. I want to know why they sacrificed everything for an organization built to cause terror across the globe. I want to know why they put their daughter in danger…" Her voice broke, and Loki tightened his grip on her. "Maybe I'm living too much in the past. I should just let go. Move on. But…somehow…I can't."

"I know how it is to hold onto something like that. To need answers about your past even if you'd be happier moving on."

Kyra realized she didn't know much about Loki's past. She knew so little about him, but she wanted to know more if he'd tell her. "Tell me more," she encouraged softly.

He paused a moment but then began to speak. "I know a thing or two about resentment toward parents. I wasn't born in Asgard…" He hesitated. "I was born in Jotunheim, realm of the Frost Giants. I _am_ Frost Giant by blood." He lifted his hand, holding it before them, and the skin tinted blue before her eyes. She felt a rush of cold air as if winter had taken up residence in his hand. Then the skin flushed with color again, the blue fading. He set his hand back down on his other side as if hesitant to touch her again. Kyra reached out and took his hand, entwining their fingers, ignoring the lingering chill. She thought she heard a sharp intake of breath from him. He'd been expecting her to pull away.

"You don't exactly look like a giant," she told him. "You look human. Or at least Asgardian. Is that an illusion?" But she would have been able to see through that.

"No. I was small for a Frost Giant. Abandoned by my father. Odin found me and took me back to Asgard. I grew up at Thor's side thinking that was my true family. I didn't find out until… Well, it's only been two years. I spent all that time thinking I was Odin's son only to find out two years ago that I was the son of the frost giant king. A prince to a throne, but not the throne of Asgard. I always knew I was different. I never fit in with Thor and his golden child aura. I always felt a little out of place but never knew why until then."

Kyra pushed herself up on her elbow so she could look at him. "What happened?" she asked him. "Everyone speaks about you like you lived in infamy, but I see another side of you."

He looked at her, something glinting in his eyes like curiosity. "A good one, I hope?" He quirked his eyebrow, trying to make light of it though she could see her words meant something deeper to him.

"Yes, a good one," she told him with an exasperated smile. "You're more than your past, more than your mistakes, more than other people's misconceptions about you." She meant that. They'd started off on the wrong foot, and she'd certainly seen the sharp shields he put up, but that wasn't who he was. Inside, he was someone who cared deeply but didn't always know how to express it. He might not have been Asgardian by blood, but he genuinely cared about the city. He hadn't just wanted the throne for power.

He was still staring at her, a faint frown curving his lips downward as if he couldn't quite figure her out. Then he leaned forward, cupping her jaw and kissing her softly, his fingers sliding up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

"What was that for?" she asked when he pulled away.

A smile tugged his lips. "For listening. For being so patient when I'm not always sure I deserve it." He leaned back again, but his eyes never left hers. "What happened was that I let resentment for my brother get the better of me. I'd grown up always in his shadow, never the favored son despite my prowess for magic. I could never be as good as him at battle or as skilled with weapons. I wasn't as strong. Resentment festered for years, decades, _centuries_. Finally, I could stand it no more. I tricked Thor into traveling to Jotunheim to battle the Frost Giants after orchestrating a break in on Asgard in Odin's vault. I just wanted Odin to see how brash Thor was, how prideful and impulsive. I truly believed he didn't deserve the throne. My plan worked flawlessly for a time. Thor was banished to Earth, stripped of his powers, Odin fell under the Odin-Sleep, a restorative sort of sleep for when he needs to regain his power. My mother named me king of Asgard in his stead. With Thor gone, the right fell to me. I was king, rightfully, but that was quickly forgotten."

Kyra could hear bitterness in his tone. She knew Thor was a hero. After the Battle of New York, he'd become an icon on Earth. But everyone had two sides. No one was simply a hero. Even heroes had flaws. Looking at Loki, she saw a man who had fought for his right to rule truly believing himself to be a better choice than his arrogant brother. Perhaps he hadn't gone about it the right way. And perhaps Thor had learned his lesson in banishment. He must have or Odin would not have restored him to his former glory. There were two sides to every story, and this was Loki's side. She listened raptly, reserving judgment, just listening.

"My plot continued. I allowed Frost Giants into Asgard. Laufey, my blood father, was poised to kill Odin, but I killed Laufey first. I saved Odin to prove that I was a worthy son." His eyes flickered with frustration at his next words. "But then Thor had to come and ruin it all. He betrayed my plan, told Odin the truth. No matter that I had saved Odin in the end, that I had _always_ planned on saving him. Everyone saw my misdeeds instead. They were blinded to my final act of saving Odin's life. But…" He paused here, eyes fluttering as he looked away from her. "…I wanted to wipe out the Frost Giants altogether. I wanted to destroy Jotunheim. Maybe I thought destroying it would rid me of my legacy, that it would prove me to be a worthy son of Asgard. Thor stopped me before I could destroy it though."

"Is that when your father locked you up?" she asked.

"Not quite." He gave a rueful smile. "I wrought much more damage before that."

"New York."

"New York. New Mexico," he listed off.

She remembered news coverage of an attack in New Mexico. That would have been around the time Loki found out about his true heritage. "That was you, too." His eyes searched hers, looking for judgment, for rejection. He'd faced enough rejection in his lifetime; he wouldn't find it from her.

"Yes. Whatever your parents did, they aren't monsters compared to me." Did he really believe himself to be a monster? Kyra didn't see a monster when she looked at him. She saw a man who'd lived lifetimes in the shadows, always overlooked. A man who'd tried over and over to prove himself only to be cast aside. She saw a man who felt deeply and passionately but didn't always express it in the best of ways.

"It's not so much about the mistakes we make," she told him. "It's about what we learn from them and how we move on. How we better ourselves."

"And have I really bettered myself? I tricked my brother into thinking I was dead, cast a spell on my father and left him stranded on Midgard. I stole the throne of Asgard."

"You also took in a girl who was haunted by a past she couldn't remember. You helped her remember, helped her find the truth. You followed her in search of answers." Kyra's pulse raced a little faster. She did see the good in him under all the layers of spite and defensiveness. It was there, glowing like an ember. "I asked you once to prove that you were worthy of the throne but instead, you left it to help me. A monster wouldn't do that."

He brushed his hand across her cheek again. "Where did you come from Kyra Winters?" he asked. "What fate brought you into my life?"

She shrugged, a smile tugging her lips. "An alien wormhole. I'm not so sure about fate."

His smile was genuine, something she'd seen so rarely from him. It opened up his face, lit his eyes. It showed a side of him she didn't think he showed to very many people if anyone these days. She leaned up to kiss him again. She'd never tire of the feel of his lips on hers nor his strong but gentle grip. What an absurd world she'd found herself in, falling for a mythical god that was far from a myth. The god of mischief. It didn't seem like a good idea, but somehow she knew she'd never be able to dissuade herself. There was something about him that made her feel alive. She could relate to him in ways she'd never been able to with anyone before. She thought she might be starting to understand him, and she thought that he understood her, too. She wanted to know everything about him, the good and the bad. She wanted to open up to him until there was nothing left to hide.

"I don't know what comes next," she said softly when she pulled away. "But I think I'd follow you anywhere." He lifted his brows, in surprise or disbelief, she didn't know. She didn't wait for a response, just tucked her head under his chin again, wrapping her arm around him. "For the first time in my life, I feel like I belong somewhere," she admitted. It frightened her how quickly she'd come to rely on him. She'd spent a lifetime pushing people away and being pushed away. She didn't trust easily, didn't lean on others. Maybe this wouldn't last. She was mortal after all. And sick. Her life would be over in a second compared to his. Maybe he would lose interest after a time. The thought scared her. But it didn't scare her as much as the thought of being without him. If she was going to die sooner than later, she wanted to make the most of every second. She didn't want to keep regretting, didn't want to keep mourning the life that had been ripped away from her. It might have been a good life if her parents had lived. If they'd said no to Hydra instead of signing away their lives and hers. She probably would have been happy. Normal.

But that wasn't the life fate had handed her if such a thing as fate existed. It had taken her a lot of years of pain and rejection and confusion, self-doubt and self-hatred to realize the past didn't define someone unless they let it. She refused to let the tragedies of her past drag her down, refused to become a tragedy herself, ankles weighted by desire for revenge. So what if her parents had been monsters? That didn't make her one. She would never make the same mistakes they did. They were dead, and they weren't coming back. Of course she missed them. Of course she loved them. But they were gone, and she was left with her own life to live.

Her eyes fluttered shut as exhaustion overcame her. Her breathing slowed, rising and falling in sync with Loki's own breath. She felt a sense of belonging that she had never felt before. It frightened her. It made her happy. It gave her hope.


	26. Twenty-Five: Letting Go

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the delay. I have had a horrible cold and have definitely not been functioning well this week. I'm out sick from work today since I don't have a voice and would have been answering the phone at the library. So instead, I'm bingeing all the Jurassic Park movies and drinking lots of tea. I've got a few chapters for you today. I've got an idea I'm running with, so hopefully I can keep posting frequently. Enjoy, and thank you ALWAYS for your favorites, follows, and reviews!

* * *

 **Twenty-Five – Letting Go**

She woke up cold and with a clarity that she hadn't felt in a long time. Yesterday came rushing back to her in a way that left her wondering if it had really happened at all. It was like one of those dreams you had that felt so real that, when you woke, you couldn't remember if it really had happened or not. Krentz dying, jumping from the rooftop… In all her nightmares, he'd been running at her, not away. She wondered if he had known the image of his body lying on the pavement below would be forever seared in her mind.

Kyra pushed herself up on her elbows, pushing her hair out of her face. The room was empty, and somehow she found that didn't surprise her. Last night, walls had been broken down, but she wasn't sure either of them had really been quite ready for it. She'd pushed too hard, asked him to trust her with vulnerabilities she hadn't had any right to ask for. They'd connected, yes, but in this bitter, broken way. _Too fast, too fast_ , her mind kept telling her like a broken radio. Acting on impulse was one thing. She didn't regret kissing him in Asgard in the throne room when they'd both needed to express the fire burning in their veins. But here, now… Kyra was picking up the remains of her life. It had frightened her so much, and she'd used him as a distraction. Maybe they'd both needed to let go for a time. Open up and let burdens pour out like flashfloods. But she'd manipulated him in the same way she had during their fight lesson. That had never been her intention, but her feelings scared her. She'd spent a lifetime being rejected over and over, and now suddenly there was… _whatever_ it was between them.

Perhaps they'd both been starved for affection, starved for the acceptance they'd been deprived of for so long. Kyra had lived her life _constantly_ on the outside looking in. Most of her foster families had children of their own, and she was reminded over and over of what might have been if her own parents hadn't died. It hurt. It always hurt no matter how many times she fortified her walls, no matter how many times she told herself she was stronger. In the end, she wasn't. In the end, she crumbled, her walls tumbling down around her while she slowly collected the pieces and glued them back together.

Loki craved acceptance. And he'd learned not to expect it over far more years than she'd been alive. He'd never stopped hoping for it though. She could see that in his eyes, that hope, that _desperation_ , that someone would accept him. She had accepted him in a way that his own brother and father never had. But it meant less because she wasn't his family. She wasn't supposed to innately accept and love and trust him like a father and brother should.

Of course he'd been drawn to her acceptance like a moth to a fire but in the end, there was still a flame. A flame that burned too hot or a flame that burned out, spluttered into nothing. Kyra was dying. She was already burning out, and she wasn't going to give him the burden of watching her die. He would never make that choice himself, so she would have to make it for him. She'd watched the two people who meant the most to her in the world die. She wouldn't wish a fraction of that pain on anyone. Belonging, hope, perhaps even happiness were the true illusions. So was revenge.

Kyra could go after Hydra, tear apart the beginning of her parents' end from its roots, but she was only one person, and she wasn't dragging Loki into that war. She was dying, and a dying girl couldn't topple empires. Krentz had died and with him, answers, but he'd also liberated something in her. He was gone and even if he haunted her nightmares for years to come, he would never be able to hurt her again. It was time to move on, and it surprised her that she was ready. A day ago she felt as if she would never be ready. That she'd cling onto her past until she destroyed any and all chances of a better future. She had to let go.

…

When Loki quietly returned to the room half an hour later, Kyra was ready to go, jacket zipped up to her chin, bag slung over her shoulder. His eyes were cautious, reserved. She was still casting illusions but not in magic. She was building up her walls again but this time to protect them both.

"I want to see their graves." It came out as more of a question. Loki had a throne to return to, a home. Kyra had nothing without Loki and Asgard. He'd already done so much for her. This had been a fool's errand, and she shouldn't have let him come with her. She'd already let go of her life on Earth, hastily, perhaps unnecessarily. She could have kept going to school. Could have found a job in Greenwich. But no. That life was gone. Someone had wiped it out, probably Hydra looking to cover up what they'd done. She might never know now. The lure of Asgard was so strong like a warm light she irrevocably leaned toward no matter how hard she tried to pull away. She couldn't just forget it. She couldn't move on from that, and she didn't think she wanted to.

"Of course." Loki's words startled her. She'd been lost in her thoughts again. She thought she saw understanding in his eyes before he shut her out again.

She felt like she needed to explain. Needed to tell him that last night he'd been everything she'd needed in her weakness but that she didn't know if she was the same person this morning as she had been the night before. There was still so much uncertainty pressing in around her, and she felt stifled by it. She needed to learn to accept the answers she did have and not fear the answers she didn't. She needed to learn who she was for herself before she could learn who she was to him.

She'd found the cemetery where her parents were buried using the hotel's free Wi-Fi. It wasn't far from her old house, a little, shaded grove she remembered walking past as a child to get to school. They walked from the hotel, and Kyra bought flowers at an outdoor market along the way. It felt so normal in a way she'd never been allowed to feel. Loki walked silently besides her, never touching her, just simply following her lead. She wanted to speak, wanted to attempt to form her thoughts into words, but instead she stayed silent and any thoughts they had went unsaid.

"Can I go in alone?" she asked at the gates once they reached the cemetery.

"You don't need my permission, Kyra." The words came out short, but she didn't think he'd meant it that way. He wouldn't meet her eyes, and she wondered if he was thinking about his family. He was dressed in a stiff black button-up shirt today, and it looked like he was going to a funeral.

It didn't feel right shutting him out of her grief when he'd shared so much of it with her through her memories, but she needed to make sure she could stand on her own two feet. It frightened her how much she'd come to rely on him though he'd given her no reason to doubt him. It was too much too fast when trust didn't come easy. It wasn't that she didn't trust him; she didn't trust _herself_. Not when she'd hardly known herself for twenty years. Now, she was discovering herself all at once. Her abilities. Her strengths. Her weaknesses. The consequences of her parents' actions and the cost of their mistakes.

Their graves weren't hard to find. They sat under a maple tree; two short headstones with their names and lifespans carved in concise lettering. Kyra knelt, heedless to the grass, still wet with morning dew. She clutched the flowers to her chest, the moment surreal enough that it might as well have been a dream.

"Mom. Dad." Did people talk to the dead? She imagined a lot of the people who came to visit family members here did. It felt unnatural to her. The last time she'd spoken to them had been so long ago on that fateful night. She didn't even know how she felt about them anymore. They hadn't been monsters to her. They'd loved her and cared for her. Sometimes good people did bad things, and maybe she'd never know just why they'd done it. Perhaps they truly believed what they were doing could help the world. Perhaps they had envisioned a better future for her. Perhaps it wasn't so much about what they'd done but whom they'd trusted. It was easy to trust the wrong people when they were offering you what you wanted.

"I've spent so long wondering what really happened, who you really were and why you did what you did. I lost sight of what I already knew along the way. I knew love and laughter and happiness as a child. I remember the secrets though I didn't think much of them at the time. I remember the hard times and the anger and the fear. But I don't think you ever wanted that life for me. Sometimes you lose control. Circumstances slip from your fingers, and you're left crawling on your knees, trying to regain control. You never did, but I don't think you ever stopped trying."

She reached out a trembling hand, touching the corners of the headstones. "I think I'm finally ready to move on. I've been trapped for so long, my past a mystery. Sometimes, no matter how dark a memory, you have to relive it to move on from it. I've found something extraordinary. A new world that accepts me in a way this place never did. I'm still learning. Learning to trust, learning who I am. I'm going to fall a few times before I learn to be strong. But I want to be strong. Even if I don't have long, even if…" Her voice broke, and she took a second to regain herself, taking deep breaths. "Even if your serum kills me in the end, I've still seen more than I ever dreamt I would. Even though I'm frightened, I wouldn't take it back for anything. Well, maybe a chance to grow up with you. Maybe even for one more day. I miss you. That won't ever change no matter how much I do."

She lay the flowers down on the graves, brushing her hands over the soft grass that was in desperate need of mowing. She didn't even know if her parents had been buried or cremated. She'd watched enough crime shows in college to know that their bodies would have been brought to a morgue after their murders—cut open and evidence gathered. Who had made the decision to have them buried here? Who had decided this little plot of grass under the tree was to be their final resting place?

They weren't really here though. Whatever was left of them wasn't really them. Kyra didn't know if she believed in the afterlife. She'd gone to church with a few of her foster families. Forced into itchy, stiff dresses, fingernails flawlessly scrubbed, new shoes too tight. If there were an afterlife, she hoped Krentz was somewhere very far from it. But if there was, then maybe she'd see her parents again. Reunited in death after all these years. Would she be able to find them amid the stars? What if, in Asgard, her soul was left to wander the cosmos for eternity, never quite knowing where it belonged?

She suddenly needed to get out of the cemetery as if the air had gone stale and dead like the bodies around her. She ran for the gates, only slowing when she saw Loki standing on the other side, waiting wordlessly for her. It wasn't enough. It didn't give her closure, and placing flowers on their graves hadn't made her feel anything. The flowers would eventually fade and die. Who would clean them up? Who would replace them?

"I want to see the house one more time." Maybe seeing where they'd made good memories as well as the worst of memories would trigger something more. She didn't know what she was expecting, didn't know what would make her feel as if her decision to move on wasn't just empty words. "Then we'll go."

Loki must have been eager to return. She'd been so grateful when he'd offered to come because it meant she didn't have to go it alone. Now a familiar doubt had taken up residence in her mind. She was a burden, and she was keeping him from his throne. And now he was burdened with a death she couldn't predict. He'd promised he wouldn't let it happen, wouldn't let her die, but she knew it was an empty promise even though she also knew he'd meant it. He didn't know how to save her. He'd just wanted to comfort her, and now she'd put him in this impossible position. As far as she knew, the serum would eventually kill her. Maybe in a month. Maybe in ten years. She didn't know, and she couldn't ask him to wait, couldn't ask him to watch. That wasn't fair to him. She wished they could go back to the night of the dance when he'd held her in his arms with both uncertainty and no expectations. She didn't regret that night, _but_ if she could go back… Maybe she would have kept walking. Maybe she could have saved them the pain. That ever looming pain that leered like an omnipresent shadow.

Doubt had always been her worst enemy growing up. Her misgivings about her foster families had always ensured she never grew close to any of them. Whenever someone tried to befriend her in school, she'd always shied away. Once they got to know her, they'd see how different she was, she told herself. Then they wouldn't want to be her friend. She tried to save herself the pain by not making friends. She didn't let herself get close to people because they would all inevitably leave. No matter how much medication she was prescribed, the doubt always lingered.

She felt that doubt now as they reached her old house, crossing the street so they could stand before the yard. A part of her mourned the loss of the girl who had once lived here. The girl she had been before her parents' deaths, before the serum injection, before she'd known monsters really could exist.

A car pulled into the drive, and Kyra watched as the same family she'd seen before got out. "Hello," called out a little girl. The girl with dark hair and eyes like Kyra's.

"Hello," Kyra echoed.

"Can we help you?" the mom asked. She had long, dark hair like the girl and a friendly, open face. Her question wasn't accusatory. It was genuine, and Kyra could hear a smile behind it.

"I…I was just looking at the house," Kyra said. "I grew up here." She didn't know what drove her to tell them. She wondered if they knew of the house's sordid past.

"You're the little girl…" The woman put a hand to her mouth. "Kyra?"

"I…yeah. How did you know?" Her heart started racing. What if they worked for Hydra? What if they were waiting for her return so they could experiment on her?

"We found a letter that got left behind when the house was sold," the woman told her. "It was addressed to a Kyra. We knew about what happened here, and a neighbor told us that was the little girl's— _your_ —name. I am so sorry, honey. We hoped that we could somehow get the letter to you. I assume…well, of course we didn't read it, but we thought it might be from your parents. Please, come in, and I'll get it."

Kyra turned to look at Loki, but she realized he was illusioned. The family couldn't see him. Perhaps it was for the better. She turned back to the family and nodded with a small smile. "Thank you."

The little girl skipped ahead. Kyra never thought she'd set foot inside the house again. She didn't know if she wanted to, but she forced herself to climb the steps of the porch. The mom unlocked the door while the dad toted in two paper bags filled with groceries.

The foyer was as she remembered it, but the hardwood floors had been replaced. They were a lighter color now, strewn with colorful rugs. The walls had been painted too. Cream instead of burgundy. Her mother had loved color, and every room had been a different spectrum of the rainbow. She always managed to find the most flattering shades of even the iffiest paint colors. A wall had been taken out between the kitchen and dining room, opening it up and adding a brightness that had never been there before. Kyra hesitated at the archway to the living room. She didn't know if she wanted to look in.

Luckily the mom seemed to sense her hesitation, offering her a seat at the dining room table. "I'll be right back," she said, moving down the hall that led to the stairs and the master bedroom. Kyra sat, back stiff against the wooden chair. She faced the window so she wouldn't have to look at the gaping hole leading into the living room. She was afraid if she went in, she'd see her mother lying in a pool of blood on the floor.

"Here it is." The kindly woman set an aged envelope on the table before Kyra. "If you'd like…" The woman hesitated as if not quite sure what the right words were. "If you'd like, we have some tables and chairs in the backyard. I mean, if you want to read it now. If you just want to take it… Well, you just do what you need to."

"Is the swing still outside?" Kyra found herself asking.

"Had to replace the seat last summer," the dad spoke up. "Wood was rotting, but it's still there."

"I…I think I'd like to see it."

"Of course. I can show you– But of course, you know the way."

"Thank you," Kyra told her. "This is…" She didn't have the right words, but the woman seemed to understand.

"Of course. Take all the time you need."

Kyra walked out the backdoor. The old sliding glass door had been replaced by French doors. She slid back the lock and walked out into a familiar yard. The swing hung from the same gnarled branch, the bright wood only slightly weathered from the changing seasons. Kyra brushed a hand down the rope that held it in place. She remembered her dad putting up the swing. It had taken him a long while, and he'd nearly fallen off the ladder twice. He'd pushed her for hours afterwards when all was secured and even. Kyra still remembered her own laughter as she reached for the stars. Little did she know then how close she'd come to them.

She sat down, the little plank of wood nearly too small for her. She stared down at the envelope for a very long time, her mother's flowing handwriting achingly familiar. She used to write Kyra little letters, folding them into different shapes and hiding them around the yard and house. It became a game until her research had taken precedence, and the letters had stopped appearing.

She tore the envelope gently, wanting to preserve this little piece of her family. A letter lay within as well as a picture. She left the picture for now and pulled out the letter. Her mother's writing was hurried and some of the words had been scratched out. Kyra took a deep breath and read.

 _August 12_ _th_ _, 1999_

 _My dearest daughter,_

 _I can hardly believe you'll be turning six in just a few days. I was warned that time would fly when I had you. That one day I'd have this beautiful, tiny baby, and the next minute she'd be a lovely, grown-up girl. They were right. I always promised myself I wouldn't get caught up in work and miss it, but I'm afraid I've done just that. I tell myself what I'm doing is to ensure you'll have a better future. That you'll grow up in a safer world. Sometimes I think I should throw it all away and live the life we were given. I've been told it's a flaw of mine—wanting more when I should be happy with what I have. Your father reminds me of that frequently, and he's right. I get these ideas in my head, ideas of what the future would look like if I had the power to control it. Maybe I'm trying to play God, when I should be humble enough to realize I don't have that kind of power. These are big words for a six-year-old, I know, but I hope you keep this letter and read it again when you're older. My mother used to write me letters on my birthday every year and make me wait to read them. I always peeked, and I won't ask you to keep this sealed past your birthday._

 _Sometimes I get this horrible feeling I won't be there to see you grow into a teenager and then an adult and then, maybe, a mother. I don't want to burden you. No six-year-old should have to think of such things, but I feel if I'm to say what I need to, it had better be in this letter._

 _I've made mistakes, Kyra. You will make mistakes too, but they won't be as bad as the ones I have made. You will learn, as you grow older, that nothing comes without a cost. Be careful of who you trust. The safest place for your heart is right in your chest where it belongs. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we had the ability to tell the liars from the truthful? I think I might be writing a very different letter now if I had that power. I hope you do find someone to trust, someone who understands you—both your beauty and your flaws. We all have both, but sometimes you have to reveal those flaws to know if you can trust someone. I hope I'm there to meet your first prom date, your first boyfriend. I hope I'm there for you to tell me about your first kiss, and I hope I'm there to hug you through your first heartbreak. A mother should be there. I should be there._

 _If I'm not, if our lives take a turn in a direction we can't come back from, please remember how much I love you. Remember how much I wanted a better future for you. How much I fought for it. For_ you _. I did it all for you, and that doesn't excuse all I've done. I guess I'm asking for forgiveness? I hope you never have to learn why. Please forgive me, Kyra. Sometimes the best of intentions lead you somewhere you can't come back from._

 _I love you, Kyra. With all my heart, I love you. I wish for you the best of futures, and I'll always be with you no matter what happens._

 _Love, Mom_

Kyra pulled out the photograph. It was small and looked like it had been taken on a polaroid. Kyra and her mom and dad stood on the front porch of their house. A sold sign sat in the front yard. Kyra looked to be two, maybe three. Her parents had light in their eyes despite the faded photograph. They looked happy, carefree. This was before they'd signed away their lives, she realized. This was how it had been. How it could have been. It hurt to look at, and yet she couldn't pull her eyes away.

"I love you too, Mom," she whispered, pressing a finger to the photograph. She'd loved them both, and she still did despite their mistakes. _Nothing comes without a cost_. They'd been trying to build a better future for her. They had started and ended with the best of intentions. They weren't monsters; they were human. Flawed, messy, stumbling humans.

Kyra slipped the photo and the letter back into the envelope. She sat, swinging slowly for a few more minutes. This was the last time she'd see this backyard. She wasn't coming back because she was moving on, moving _forward_. Her mom wasn't there to see her, but she wasn't entirely gone. Neither of them were. They were with her now even if she couldn't see them. Her mother was there in her hair and her eyes, her tawny skin. Her father was there in her nose and her cheeks. She had her mother's fire and her father's curiosity. She had always considered herself an orphan, but she carried so much of her parents with her that how could she be? They'd been there all along, but she had forgotten how to see them.

She didn't say goodbye to the family, and she knew they didn't expect her to. She left the yard by the side gate, meeting Loki out front. They wordlessly walked away from the house until they reached an empty baseball field. Kyra felt the stiff outline of the envelope in her pocket.

"I'm ready," she told Loki. He watched her a moment and then resumed the guise of the guard. They were back to his game of deception, and Kyra wondered if living a lie would ever become too much. How exhausting it must be to keep up pretenses constantly like her parents had done.

Loki put a hand on her arm. There was nothing affectionate in the touch, and she felt both disappointment and relief. She didn't know what she wanted from him, didn't know what he wanted from her. It was something they would have to figure out, but right now all she wanted was to sleep in her bed, to change out of her Midgardian clothes into the Asgardian ones that made her feel stronger than she really was. Loki summoned the Bifrost, and they were swept off back to Asgard and _home_. Kyra tested that word in her mind. _Home_. Somehow it didn't feel like a lie.


	27. Twenty-Six: Home

**Twenty-Six – Home**

"Thank you for coming with me." Those were Kyra's first words to Loki after they arrived back in Asgard. They sounded stilted, formal. He wondered what had changed her mind. Was she embarrassed after last night? Regretful? Was _he_? Regretful wasn't the right word. She'd needed someone to comfort her. He'd fallen for her unquestioning acceptance of him. It had been both complicated and uncomplicated. Complicated if it meant something more than two people simply needing each other in that moment. He didn't know which it was. He didn't show vulnerability to people. Not intentionally. He'd tried to hide it even from his mother though she'd seen straight through him. Feelings were messy and complicated. Kissing Kyra the night of the ball had been the opposite—it had been impulsive and nothing more than a simple attraction that neither had been able to deny.

But this…whatever _this_ was had gotten very complicated. Kyra was dying. She already had been with mere mortal years to keep her going, but this made mortality even more fleeting. He'd told her he wouldn't let that happen, but it had been an unintentional lie. He might be a god, but he didn't have power over death. If he had, he would never have let his mother die.

He curled his fist at the thought. He hadn't even had a chance to try to save her. He'd been locked in the dungeons while Thor and Odin had failed to save her. He shouldn't make promises to save Kyra because he didn't have the power to save people much as he wished he did.

"I didn't think it was something you should do alone." That was the truth at least. Humans still seemed incredibly fragile to him, and what Kyra had been through… He'd shared those memories. In a way, he felt obligated to see it through to the end. "I'm sorry you didn't find more answers."

"I think I understand why they did what they did even if I don't have all the answers," Kyra said thoughtfully, chewing her lip in a gesture he now recognized as an expression of nerves. "They just wanted a better future for me. They thought if they invented something that helped people see truths from lies, the world would be safer. They believed so strongly in the idea that they trusted the wrong people to make it happen."

"Sometimes the worst of ideas come from the best of intentions." He knew from experience. He'd failed over and over in his quest to become king. Until now. He found his trickery felt less satisfying than recognition that he'd been meant to be king all along. He hated that he still craved that acceptance. It made him weak, malleable.

There was an awkward silence that stretched out, and he knew they'd have to talk sooner than later. Kyra saved him the trouble of speaking first.

"About what happened…" She took in a deep breath before pressing on. "I took advantage last night. I was hurting, and I was using you as a distraction. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. I know…I know there's _something_ between us. Whatever it is, I want to learn more. But I think we need to learn each other first. You opening up to me—I can't tell you how much I appreciate that trust. I want to know more. But when you're ready. I'm not going to push you again. I think—until we figure that out—we should…" She hesitated again. "I think I just need some space." She let out a huff of breath. "That sounds so incredibly cliché. I just mean I'm not entirely sure what's going to happen to me. How long I have. How it's going to…to end. I've lived such a lie, and I need to figure out who I am now that I have at least some of the truth. Does that make sense?"

She watched him, her brows furrowed with concern. She was worried he would be hurt. Worried she'd hurt his _feelings_. How incredibly human. He checked himself at that. He might have once considered that to be a weakness, but Kyra wasn't weak. Even gods could feel the same emotions humans did much as they might try to deny it. He turned his words over in his head. She was giving him an out, essentially, even if she disguised it. Already he could feel himself pulling away. What would be the point of getting attached to someone destined to die? He would never find satisfaction in something so breakable. "You can have all the space you need," he finally said. He should fight against her words. That was what he saw in her eyes. She was hoping he would argue, tell her she was wrong. The hope faded, replaced by dull acceptance.

"Thank you," she said again, so utterly polite down to the last. She didn't leave, not yet. She watched him as if trying to memorize his face. He felt a panicked jolt that he tamped down as best he could. She was mortal. It was never going to work, whatever they had tentatively built. It had been a mistake to let his guard down.

"For what?" he had to ask, cocking his head to the side to wait for her answer.

"For letting me stay in Asgard."

"It's your home too, if you wish it to be," he told her.

"I do. I really do." Kyra smiled, feeble though genuine.

"Then I guess that makes me your king after all." He meant it as a joke, but it fell flat.

She tipped her shoulder up in a shrug. "We'll see." Then she turned and left him. She was always walking away. And he was always letting her.

…

Kyra's first stop was Lady Sif's house despite the exhaustion that threatened to overcome her. She was disappointed when no one answered her knock on the door.

"Looking for the Lady Sif?" a woman next door asked as she hung out some laundry to dry in the stiff afternoon breeze.

"Yes, I was." The woman was eyeing her Midgardian clothing, and Kyra wished she'd changed first.

"You'll probably find her in the training field," the woman advised. "That's where she spends most her time when she's not off on adventures." She sounded mildly disapproving, and Kyra frowned.

Sif was on the training field just as the lady had said, swinging her sword in an array of complicated movements. When she caught sight of Kyra, she sheathed her sword, a smile lighting her face. "Kyra, you're back!" She pulled Kyra into a hug before pulling back to study her. "Are you all right? How did you fare on Earth?"

Kyra didn't know where to begin. "Can we go somewhere else?" she asked.

"Of course. Why don't we go back to my house? You look exhausted."

After all the places Kyra had been in the last two days—even her old home—Sif's house felt more like home. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, and birds sung outside, their melodic chirps carrying through the open doors. Sif changed out of her armor, and Kyra took the chance to use the spare room to change back into her Asgardian clothes. It was a relief to shed the ripped jeans and old T-shirt. A testament to her old life. She smoothed out the tunic, studying her reflection in the mirror. She looked healthy. She didn't look as if she were dying. What if she didn't use her illusions anymore? What if she didn't use any part of her powers? Could she though? She didn't think there was a switch to turn it off. She wasn't ready to give up though. Surely with all their advancements, Asgard had doctors with medical research far beyond Earth's own doctors.

When she met Sif back downstairs, the warrior was pouring two glasses of what looked like wine. "I promise it's weak," she said. "Even by human standards." The nectar was pleasant with the taste of berries and hibiscus. She felt herself relaxing, pulling her feet up under her on the sofa.

"So, tell me of your adventures on Midgard." Sif sat across from her, looking much more casual without her armor. "I heard your soldier went with you."

"He did…" Kyra's tongue stuck on the lie, but she'd come too far to tell Loki's secret now. After all he'd done for her, he didn't deserve that.

Sif's smile slid. "Something happened."

"Several somethings… That is possibly the most complicated part of my story." She gave Sif a short account of the night of the celebration, her cheeks reddening a bit as she briefly recounted the kiss. Then she jumped into her account of what had happened on Midgard, starting first with some of the details from her memories. "I thought finding my parents' murderer would be impossible. That he would have moved on or died or disappeared. But he was still there in Seattle where I grew up. He was putting on magic shows in a theater. He called himself The Illusionist like he had any right to flaunt that. He had fame and success while my parents are lying dead in the ground." She paused to compose herself. She hadn't come here to break down. She'd already broken down. It was time to move past that.

"He needed someone from the audience to help with his final act. I volunteered, and I showed him who I was. He was afraid of me." She was afraid to admit his fear had been incredibly satisfying, so she kept that to herself. "After the show, L–the guard. Leo is his name." She said the first name she could think of, covering up her near-mistake. "Leo and I confronted him, but he tricked us and ran. We followed him up to the roof of the theater, but he jumped. He jumped before I could get any answers. But before he did…he, uh, he told me something." Now that she was to this part of the story, she found herself stumbling. How did she tell her friend she was dying? She'd just have to spit it out. "He told me the serum I injected myself with as a child was imperfect. He told me it would kill me."

"He was lying," Sif said at once, disbelieving.

"I wish he had been, but I can tell when someone is lying. He wasn't." There was still the possibility that he'd really believed he was telling the truth. If someone believed something strongly enough, Kyra supposed it would still come across as the truth even if they were wrong. "You saw me after I created the illusion of the bilgesnipe. Every time I cast an illusion, I pass out. Something feels wrong. Seeing through illusions was always easy but casting them feels painful."

"What if you stop using your powers?" Sif asked, her brow furrowed in worry. Her glass lay forgotten on the table next to her. Kyra took another sip from her own glass. This time the liquid did nothing to soothe her tense shoulders.

"I don't know."

"We have medics here who can look into it," Sif told her. "They might be able to help."

"You think so?" Kyra hadn't allowed herself to hope this. She still didn't. It was too soon, and she didn't want the heartbreak if they couldn't help her.

"We'll go see them first thing tomorrow," Sif told her. "What happened after that? Were you able to find any more answers?"

"Not really answers. But maybe a little closure. I visited my parents' graves and the house I grew up in. The house they died in. The family living there had found a letter with my name on it. The letter was from my mother, and it helped me understand what she and my father were trying to do and why they did it. It didn't justify what they did, and I don't think she was trying to justify it. She just wanted to create a better world for me."

"As a good mother should try to do. It sounds as if she loved you very much."

"I have a picture of them. Would you like to see?"

"Very much." Kyra handed the photo over to Sif. "You look just like them. Is this a painting? It's very well done."

"No, it's a photo. From a camera. Earth technology. Your frescos are much more impressive, I have to say." Sif handed her back the picture, and Kyra tucked it safely away.

"There's still something wrong," Sif guessed, and Kyra realized she'd drained her glass. "Is it Leo?" she guessed.

"Yes, I suppose it is. I…I think I might have ruined things between us. I, uh, was a bit upset after the theater. I, well, I kind of threw myself at him to put not too fine a point on it. He reciprocated—to a point—and I thought, I _knew_ we were connecting. He was open with me when he's usually so closed off. But the next morning…something felt different. For both of us. There's something intoxicating about him like I know he's bad for me, but I can't ignore my attraction to him." She groaned, putting a hand to her face. "That sounds like the cheesy plot to a young adult romance novel about vampires. I think it's that he's actually quite good, but I'm not sure anyone sees it. I'm not even sure _he_ sees it. He's been selfless and kind, but he's also been cruel. I'm not sure who he is anymore, and I'm afraid what I feel for him has blinded me a bit."

"How did he handle the news?" Sif asked sympathetically.

"At first he swore he'd find a way to save me, but I think we both knew he couldn't promise such a thing. After that, I think it just reminded him of how fleeting human life is. It's not fair of me to cling on when I'll eventually have no choice but to let go."

"That's no reason to let you go," Sif said emphatically. "Thor came to love a mortal despite the difference in age spans."

"Not all immortals share his optimism. Anyway, _I_ asked _him_ to give me space. I've been leaning on him for too long, and I need to learn to stand on my own again. Ever since I arrived in Asgard, I feel I've been measured by my abilities and that I've come to rely on them to keep myself safe. I want to learn to fight without them. To defend myself. I want to be formidable while still being mortal. Will you help me?"

"Of course. I would be glad of another woman warrior in Asgard," Sif said with a smile. "We'll see the medics tomorrow and then see about starting training after that."

"Thank you." A trill of excitement warmed Kyra's blood. When she'd first discovered her abilities, she'd felt strong, like she stood a chance of fitting in with the Asgardians. She'd felt like she had a purpose even if it had started out with Loki using her. But then, after she'd realized the truth, that it was _killing_ her, she'd felt weaker than she ever had. It was like a betrayal, particularly because it had been her parents' creation. If she could learn to defend herself—use a sword and fight—perhaps she could regain some of that strength, some of that confidence.

"I'm glad you came back," Sif told her, smile sliding into a serious expression. "I hope you can come to call Asgard your home."

Kyra smiled, the first genuine smile of the day. "I think I already do."


	28. Twenty-Seven: Smoke Signals

**Twenty-Seven – Smoke Signals**

The throne felt familiar, cold, empty. Despite the guards in the room, Loki felt very alone. He had a defense council meeting in a few minutes and had to pretend that he'd been in Asgard the last few days and not on Midgard with Kyra. The emptiness of the room gave him time to think, and thinking was the last thing he wanted to do right now. Now that he was back in Asgard, he was thinking clearer. It had felt like a game before, but on Midgard something had changed. Whatever had been between him and Kyra had become real in a way that caught him completely off guard. He blamed it on Midgard. That place unbalanced him, a constant reminder of his failures. And Kyra… She was a distraction. She was a fragile, breakable distraction. Strong in many ways but ultimately mortal, destined to have her life snuffed out in what would feel like mere moments to him.

She'd given him an out. And he'd taken it. There was something bitter left over in his mouth, something like disgust with himself. Disappointment. His mother had taught him compassion. But his father had taught him ambition, and the two collided. Ambition always won, and he had a throne to prove it.

"My king?" one of the guards approached. "The council awaits."

Loki wanted to snap that they could wait a little longer, but he schooled his face, copying the same placid look his father would have had. "Very good," he said, Odin's voice coming out. He found he missed the sound of his own voice.

The council met once a month to discuss matters at hand such as the state of the nine realms—all blissfully peaceful thanks to Thor—and, more recently, the Enchantress. They needed to decide what to do with her, and Loki found he wasn't quite ready to think about that. Over the centuries, he'd had other love interests besides Amora. Not recently, but when he was younger. Somehow she was the only one that still left a bitter taste in his mouth. She'd gotten to him, and he still resented her for it.

As he entered the council chamber, the men and women around him stood at attention until he sat at the head of the table. Only then did they sit with the scraping of chairs and rustling of papers.

"My king," one of the advisors spoke up. Garth Loki thought his name was. He was a portly man with greying hair and watery blue eyes. Loki motioned for him to continue. "We were hoping to discuss the matter of the Enchantress today."

"What about her?" The dungeons had kept him contained. He wasn't too worried about Amora escaping.

"Well," Garth hesitated. "During the Dark Elf attack, quite a few prisoners escaped including your adopted son, Loki."

"I remember." His words were sharp enough to make Garth wince.

"Forgive me, your majesty. I just wonder if we need to take a closer look at security. Increase the guards, perhaps."

"If it would ease your mind, add three more guards to the dungeons and have them report in regularly. We will not let the Enchantress cast her illusions in Asgard again."

"Very good, my king."

"Any other matters to discuss?" He was actually hoping to escape early. The palace had felt too close, too tight since he'd returned yesterday. He wanted to take Asta out. Shed his guise where no one could see him. He'd had much less time for riding since he'd taken over the throne.

"There have been reports of smoke sighted up in the valley," said one of the women. Sigrid. She pushed one of her long red braids over her shoulder, armor glinting. Ever since Sif had become a warrior, others had followed her example. It was a welcome change, reminiscent of the Valkyrie, the elite women warriors that had once fought for Odin. He had quite enjoyed the stir it had caused among some of the men who weren't so open to change. Loki had even shape-shifted into a woman once to enlist in the guard. The shade of purple the captain's face had turned had been well worth the prank. "It could be bandits or refugees. We should send a patrol to check on it."

"I'll ride out," Loki volunteered at once. Sigrid looked at him in surprise. "I may be an old man, but I am still in charge of Asgard's safety." He wanted to roll his eyes, but no one pressed the matter.

"Very good, my king."

Loki never got tired of hearing that title even if they meant it for Odin. "If that's all, I will call this meeting to a close," Loki said.

"That's all," Garth said. "Thanks to Thor, the nine realms are at peace for the first time in a long time."

"Yes, Thor deserves our gratitude," Loki grated out the words as pleasantly as he could. Always Thor. Maybe it was time to change that. "Send the playwright to my office," he told one of the guards as he left the room.

Forgotten. Loki was all but forgotten. Never mind his bravery against the Dark Elves. Never mind the fact that he'd saved Thor's life. As usual, Loki was a shadow. Well, no more.

He paced his office until there was a timid knock on the door. "Come in," he called out, ceasing his pacing. The playwright entered the room, a timid little man with mousy brown hair and eyes. He was carrying an armload of blank parchment, quills and ink bottles clasped in one hand. With surprising grace, he placed them on the desk.

"You came prepared," Loki said, lifting an eyebrow.

"Always, my lord. What do you wish for today? Tragedy? Romance? War? What inspires you?"

Loki scowled. Certainly not romance. "Tragedy," he said, straightening his face in an effort to remain in character. "The tragedy of my late son."

"It was very disappointing to all when Thor chose to return to Midgard," the playwright said, nodding his head emphatically.

"Not Thor," Loki hissed. "My _other_ son."

The playwright was silent.

"Loki." Loki eyed the window, wondering if anyone would notice him tossing the playwright out.

"OH. Of course, of course," the playwright amended. "The dark horse."

"Thor wouldn't be alive if not for Loki," Loki snapped. "This will be a play to commemorate his bravery and his sacrifice."

"Yes, yes, yes. A very good idea, indeed."

"Maybe I had better draft it," Loki said. "I want to make sure all the details are correct."

"Of course. Whatever his highness desires. Perhaps I can take notes while you tell me the details," he suggested. "May I?" He nodded to the chair at the desk, and Loki motioned for him to sit. "How does this tragedy begin?" the playwright asked. Loki realized he had no idea what his name was. No matter.

"This play takes place during the Dark Elf attack," Loki said, starting up his pacing again. "Loki will be the hero of course. And…and Thor." Too bad he couldn't write out Thor altogether. "It begins when Thor pleads for Loki's help and his forgiveness…"

He spent the afternoon drafting the play while the playwright scribbled hasty notes. "This will be a play to remember!" he said excitedly as he packed up his parchments. "I'll start at once."

He bowed, somehow keeping a hold on his parchments and quills, before scuttling from the room. Would a play be enough though? It was temporary, something people would watch and then forget. But a statue… Now a statue was hard to ignore, hard to forget. He'd look into having one built. He was king after all, and kings must have statues built in their honor.

He could see Kyra's disapproving expression, a raised eyebrow and the silent judgment. She had made it very clear she wasn't interested in spending time with him anymore. He knew he was being bitter. He shouldn't let her have this much power over him. Midgard felt like years ago though it had only been two days. Already he felt himself fall back into his old patterns. He realized he missed his arguments with Kyra, her witty responses and biting remarks. It was easier not to get attached. She was mortal. He would die one day—for all his talk of immortality, he wouldn't live forever—but he would live on centuries longer than any human. Let Thor be weak with his feelings for the mortal girl, Jane. Loki refused to fall into the same trap. His need for acceptance was his weakness. All she had to do was sympathize with him and bat her lashes, and he was wrapped around her finger. He could find acceptance elsewhere. He knew it wasn't that easy. Nothing about Kyra was simple. He couldn't just ignore her, and he couldn't ignore the fact that she might be dying. He'd been called heartless before, cruel, evil. He'd never wanted that to be his legacy.

He felt a sudden desperation to clear his head. The palace walls felt too close, too tight. He left the office and headed down to the stables. He wanted to shed his guise altogether, but he didn't dare until he was out where no one would see him. He stroked Asta's nose when he arrived in the stables, glad for her safe return from Alfheim. Now here was an uncomplicated relationship. Nothing but equal trust and respect. He saddled her quickly, pulling himself onto her back and riding through the city toward the forest beyond. Sigrid had said smoke had been seen in the upper valley, so Loki headed Asta that way. There were winding pathways that led through the valleys and forests, through the hills and up to the mountains. There were hidden lakes and rivers everywhere, a veritable haven for exploring. He and Thor had spent countless hours doing so when they were younger.

Asta seemed glad for the exercise, her steps lively, her head held high and nostrils flared. Loki waited until they were hidden by the trees, a safe twenty minutes from the city, before shedding the Odin guise. He relaxed, enjoying the caress of wind on his own skin. Even though he couldn't really _feel_ his Odin guise, it still weighed on him. The expectations, the exhaustion of constantly playing the part of his father. Odin's patience stretched further than his own.

They came to a fork in the path, one way leading downward into the deeper forest, dark with the thick, bristling pines and evergreens. The other pathway led upward toward his destination. The trees thinned out here, the sun growing hot on the back of his head. Asta flicked her tail against the bugs that drifted through the air. Loki nudged her upward, running a hand over her smooth neck. Her coat gleamed in the sunlight, so black that it held no hint of other color. Her eyes matched, but there was always a glimmer of curiosity in them. Asta loved to explore, and they'd spent many hours escaping to the far reaches of Asgard. It had never been enough. Sometimes, when he'd had a particularly unfair fight with his father or been left out yet again by Thor and his friends, Loki would ride to the very edges of Asgard, gazing out into the sea of constellations and wondering if he'd ever get to explore further. He sometimes wished he had Heimdall's gift for seeing all. Sometimes his own shortsightedness was his downfall.

Asta snorted, startling Loki from his thoughts. He looked up and saw they were nearing the valley. He summoned an invisibility illusion, silencing their approach as well. The path was well worn, but that didn't mean anything. Lots of people rode out this far for a picnic on the lake or a camp-out under the stars. It was silent and still ahead as they approached the lake, the trees thinning out. Sunlight glinted on the surface of the water, blinding. Loki narrowed his eyes against it. He pulled Asta to a stop, sliding lithely from the saddle and setting her loose to drink from the lake.

His boots made no noise under his spell, and he walked the edge of the lake, looking for footprints in the damp soil. He saw at least one set, no, two. Men by the size of the prints, the boots prints deep. Further down the bank he saw signs of a campsite at the edge of the trees. A fire pit, ashes scattered within a ring of stones. They weren't exactly hiding whoever these people were. Two tents had been erected beneath the shade of the trees. His eyes scoured the small campsite for any clues as to who these people were. Something caught his eye, strewn carelessly in the entrance to one of the tents. He knelt and picked it up. It was a jacket. Torn, bloody, and unmistakably Midgardian.

Loki tensed. Had another Midgardian come to Asgard during the Dark Elf attack? Perhaps they'd been living out here all this time, but why not seek help? He rummaged through the pockets, looking for anything useful. He pulled out a folded piece of paper, unfolding its creases until he could see the image on the other side. He dropped the jacket to the ground where it lay in a crumpled heap.

The photograph he'd pulled out was one of a girl with dark hair. She was turned partially away, unaware that someone was watching her. Despite the blurry quality, Loki recognized the girl immediately. Kyra. Someone had been watching her on Earth. That someone was now, somehow, on Asgard.


	29. Twenty-Eight: Diagnosis

**Twenty-Eight – Diagnosis**

Kyra was nervous when Sif walked her into the medical building on the edge of the inner city. The building was an architectural masterpiece in resplendent gold. Her boots echoed openly on the tiled floor as they passed through stone archways. Sif led her into a room filled with equipment that was foreign to Kyra. It all looked incredibly advanced, and she didn't doubt the Asgardians were way ahead of Midgard in terms of medical advancements.

An older woman with a tight greying bun approached. She wore long robes and had a kindly face. "Mareth, this is Kyra," Sif introduced.

"Hi," Kyra said.

"A pleasure," Mareth gave Kyra a warm smile, her accent crisp but friendly.

"Kyra has a problem we're hoping you might be able to solve or at least advise her on." Sif nodded, encouraging Kyra to speak.

"I think I'm dying." That seemed as good a place as any to start.

"Perhaps we should sit." Mareth led them into a little antechamber where there were comfortable chairs set around a fireplace. "You look healthy," she said after Kyra sat. "Why do you think you're dying?"

"When I was six years old, I was injected with a serum my parents invented. It was supposed to bring about mental abilities such as seeing through lies and illusions. It also allows the person injected to cast illusions and break them. I'm not entirely sure what else. I just know the one I was injected with was flawed. They hadn't perfected it, and it's slowly killing me. I didn't even discover my abilities until I came to Asgard. I think suppressing them kept the illness at bay, but using them opened the floodgates. When I cast illusions, I black out."

"You're human." It wasn't a question, but Kyra nodded. The woman clucked her tongue. "When will humans learn they are not meant to have powers like that?" Rhetoric as the question was, Kyra had to agree. "I mean no offense to your parents," the doctor went on, "as long as they're not the ones who injected you."

"They weren't."

"Human bodies and minds just weren't meant to have the same abilities as Asgardians or Light Elves."

"Is there a way to reverse the serum?" Kyra asked.

"I'd have to understand its elements first," Mareth said thoughtfully. "Do you mind if I run some tests?"

"That's why we're here. Thank you," Kyra told her, biting back her nerves. She'd never liked going to the doctor, but Mareth's calm demeanor put her at ease.

"Shall I come with you?" Sif asked.

"Would you?" It felt better having her friend with her. There was someone else she half-wished was here, but he didn't even know where she was. Kyra hadn't spoken to Loki since the day before when she'd asked for space. He was respecting that rather too effectively, and Kyra wondered if they'd be able to rebuild what she'd toppled.

"If you'd just lay down here," Mareth requested, motioning toward a low stone table in the center of the room. There was a cushion on top, and Kyra's shoulders sunk into it as she lay down. Mareth pressed a button, and a screen lit up next to her. She slid a finger over the surface and an image appeared above Kyra. It was an x-ray, she realized, but like nothing she'd ever seen before. Definitely more advanced.

"This will help me see if anything is obviously wrong," Mareth told her. "If we can isolate the issue, we can start looking at possible solutions."

"I know you don't know anything yet, but do you think there's chance of reversing it?" Kyra asked.

"I won't know until I take a closer look, but I'll certainly try my hardest." Mareth looked at the scan of Kyra's body, zooming in on her brain. She frowned. "Now this is interesting," she said. "The frontal lobe is showing much more activity than is usual in a mortal—that will be the serum. There's swelling though—that is most likely caused by an overload of power. If the serum were perfect, it might be able to counteract the power of what it's gifting you. There's a reason human brains don't use all the potential in them. It would be overwhelming if you had full access to your mental abilities. It's one thing to learn to use magic, quite another to be injected with something that gives you abilities. Your mind doesn't have a chance to adjust to the change. It overloads, and damage is caused."

"If I quit using my abilities altogether, would that do anything?" Kyra asked.

Mareth pursed her lips. "It will slow the degeneration. In time, damage might heal, but only if we're able to remove the serum from your mind altogether."

"Can you do that?"

"If I can isolate the serum in your blood, I might be able to make an anecdote. I'd need to study it. I can't make any promises." Mareth pulled a needle from a table beside her. "May I take a sample of your blood?"

Kyra nodded, holding out her arm. She winced as the needle penetrated her skin, drawing blood into a glass tube. "I'll study this, and let you know as soon as I have a result. It's possible the affects can't be reversed, but there's always a chance."

"A chance is better than nothing," Kyra said, trying not to feel too discouraged. "Thank you."

Mareth nodded, swiping the image of Kyra's brain away. "In the meantime, don't use your abilities if you can help it. Using them will only speed up the damage."

"Understood. That's the last thing I want," Kyra said. "Anyway, I got along just fine without them most my life. I was hoping to train with Sif though—with a sword, maybe some hand-to-hand combat. Would I be hurting myself more if I did that?" she asked.

"I don't see why it would." Mareth gave her a small smile. "It's a good distraction anyway. Try not to worry, and come see me in a couple of days. I hope to have good news when you return."

The world seemed a little brighter when Kyra and Sif left the medical facility. She knew there was still a chance Mareth wouldn't be able to find a cure, but there was also a chance she would. She thought of how easy it could have been to stay on Earth and wither away with no hope of a cure, cursed with something she didn't think human doctors would understand. Her thoughts flitted to Loki, and she wanted to tell him she had a chance, that he might still be true to his word when he'd said he wouldn't let her die. She stopped herself. She wasn't going to get his hopes up only to dash them if there was no cure.

"Did you want to rest for awhile?" Sif asked, brow creased with worry.

"Actually, can we start training now?" Kyra asked, flexing her wrists. She felt pent up energy waiting to release itself—all the frustrations from the last few days, all her emotions and the turmoil they'd wrought. She needed to let it all out.

Sif's brow smoothed as a smile lit her face. "I was hoping you'd say that."

Sif let Kyra borrow some armor, the shoulder plates and armguards a foreign weight. Sif substituted her sword for a blunt one, equipping Kyra with the same. It was strange holding a sword, and she felt like she was ready to head off to a cosplay convention. This wasn't make-believe though. The sword was real as was the potential to get injured. She swallowed down her reservations and focused on Sif's instructions.

"Sword-fighting isn't just about being able to swing a sword," Sif told her. "It's about balance and anticipation. You always want to spread your feet out, bend your knees just a little. It helps brace you for impact and allows you to pivot easily."

Kyra mimicked her stance, trying not to notice the stares of the soldiers training around them. She must look a fool in her borrowed armor. She ignored them and focused on Sif's words.

"Let's practice some basic maneuvers," Sif said. "You need to know how and when to block just as much as how to fight.

They spent the next hour running through the motions of a fight in slow motion, Kyra learning the weight of the sword and growing used to the motions that came with wielding it. By the end of the hour, her arms and wrists were aching, and she asked if they could take a break. Though swords were basically long, heavy knives, Kyra found she missed the ease that came with fighting with a knife. It was less exhausting while still being affective.

"How long did it take you to become proficient with a sword?" Kyra asked Sif.

"It took years to get to where I am, but of course I've lived many lifetimes to hone my skills. Fighting is an art that takes constant practice, but don't let that discourage you. You can still learn the basics quickly and be able to defend yourself."

"I wanted to learn to fight when I was a teenager. Even though I couldn't remember the night my parents died, I knew by then they'd been murdered. I guess I always had this fear in the back of my mind that their murderer would come back for me some day. I thought if I could fight, I'd stand some chance. My foster parents did not like that idea. Not one bit. I think they thought I was trying to arm myself against them somehow. They couldn't fathom a threat great enough to merit self-defense lessons. They suggested art club or choir instead as if I could wield my voice or a paintbrush against someone who wanted to hurt me."

"You do wield your voice like a weapon," Sif told her. "I've heard that sharp tongue. Particularly where Leo is concerned."

Kyra had half-forgotten she'd given Loki's guard alter ego a name. "Yes, well, much of a pain as he is, he'd never hurt me." She'd hurt him with her words, and she was starting to wonder why she'd pushed him away. She knew a part of it was the fear of needing him, of relying on him. She didn't want that kind of attachment to someone. Her cheeks still flared to think of that night in the hotel room when she'd all but thrown herself at him, too distraught to think clearly. But after her meltdown when they'd been talking… That had been the first time since she was a child that she'd been able to just talk to someone and to have them listen. It was the first time anyone had opened up to her, trusting her with a painful past. They were two birds of a feather, and she somehow knew they'd find their way back to each other whether they made that conscious decision or not.

"Ready for another round?" Sif asked.

Kyra raised an eyebrow in challenge. "My arms might fall off, but let's do this."

…

Loki returned to the palace as quickly as he could. Asta seemed to sense his urgency, putting on an extra burst of speed when the city came within sight. Loki had returned to his Odin guise with an impatient flick of his powers. He didn't know what he was going to do or if he was going to tell Kyra of this. He just needed to make sure she was all right. Whoever had her picture meant her harm. He didn't need to know who had left the jacket with the photo in the pocket. Someone had been watching Kyra on Earth and had somehow followed her here. For a second, he had this crazy idea that maybe Krentz had faked his own death, and he had somehow followed them here. But why would he need a photo of Kyra when he well knew what she looked like?

He left Asta with a stable boy, giving her a pat on the neck before moving toward the palace. He wasn't sure if Kyra would be in her room. He didn't know where he was, and it gave him an uneasy feeling he didn't like. He tried her rooms first, but she wasn't there. He took on the guard's guise to move around more easily without being recognized. He was headed past the training grounds on his way out into the city to try to hunt her down when he heard a familiar voice.

Kyra was training with Sif. She wore Asgardian armor—shoulder and arm plates—and held a blunt practice sword which she spun not entirely inexpertly toward Sif. She had a natural grace to her and an intensive concentration. She'd braided her long, dark hair back into a tight plait, and her olive skin gleamed with sweat and sunlight. She looked every inch an Asgardian warrior though he knew she'd never believe him if he told her that.

He stood watching from the shadows, not wanting to interrupt her concentration. Her smile was genuine, and he saw none of the worry she'd held when they'd returned with dire news of her well-being. He wanted to ask how she was, if she'd reached out for help. He should have been the one to offer, should have enlisted all the medics in Asgard to find a cure. He hadn't. Somehow he knew Sif would have insisted, and that gave him some comfort. He didn't know why he hesitated, why he kept out of sight. She hadn't said she didn't want to see him. She just needed space, and he realized he needed it too now that he'd seen how much his life had come to revolve around her in such a short amount of time. He had an entire city to focus on, a throne, all he'd wanted and worked so hard for. Why was he hiding in the shadows, hesitating to speak to Kyra?

He watched her a moment longer as Sif showed Kyra a complicated maneuver. Kyra bit her lip in concentration, and Loki could see that her arms were trembling even from this distance. She didn't give up though, copying the movement with near precision. Loki had to admit she had a natural skill for weapons. They weren't easy to master, but Kyra had a sense of self-preservation that allowed her single-minded determination to master something. It was smart of her to learn. She couldn't use her abilities to protect herself, and so she was learning how to defend herself through the only other means she could think of. That she thought she needed to learn to protect herself made him feel as if he'd somehow failed her. Hadn't he promised to protect her? But he couldn't protect her. Not from the demons of her past. Perhaps not from anything. And she wasn't his _to_ protect. She had made that very clear. Despite his resolution as he turned away, he knew he wouldn't hesitate to throw himself into danger to save her.

Back in the palace, he found himself walking in a familiar yet unexpected direction, his feet carrying him all the way to the doors before he thought better of the idea. It had crossed his mind that Amora might have been working with someone—someone who wanted to harm Kyra or someone she'd hired to harm Kyra. He'd be lying if he said that was the only reason he was visiting the dungeons.

Extra guards lined the corridors—on Odin's orders. Loki cast an illusion of himself to enter the dungeons unseen. He closed his eyes and focused, seeing through the eyes of his illusion self. Though his footsteps made no noise, Amora looked up sharply as soon as he set foot in front of her cell. He let her see his illusion but not the guards standing at the end of the cells.

Amora's lips curved up in a smile, and he knew this had been a mistake. He might pry answers out of her eventually, but not before she'd had her fun. She stood, coming as close as she could to the wall of the cell. "Are you working with someone on the outside?" He got straight to the point, hoping to catch her off guard. Amora scoffed, red lips parting with what looked like genuine surprise.

"And how would I be doing that when you've locked me up in this charming hole of a cell?" she purred, her words holding a touch of iron. She resented being locked up though she tried not to let it show.

"You and I both know you're more than capable of managing it."

"Did someone threaten that delightful little mortal pet of yours?" Amora looked amused at the thought, and Loki clenched his fists, his illusion mimicking the emotion. Amora missed nothing. Her lips parted, and she gave him a superior smile. "They did, didn't they? You really do care about her." Her words were sprinkled with surprise. "Well, whoever it was, they're not acting on my orders. I was working alone. I like it better that way. Less chance to be stabbed in the back."

He tried not to flinch at her words. "That's not what happened."

"Oh, so now you want to talk about it?"

"Not especially." This wasn't what he'd come here for. Was it? Despite the centuries that had passed, what had happened between them still sparked with a sort of static electricity. There had been no closure, but he wasn't interested in bringing up the past. Not now. Not ever.

"Oh, come on. For old time's sake." She watched him closely, waiting for his reaction. He didn't give her the satisfaction.

"If I find you're lying, you'll be begging to see the inside of this cell again because it will be much more pleasant than the alternative." He turned to walk away.

"You never used to wear your weaknesses," Amora called after him. He paused though he knew he should keep walking. "But now they're stitched into every fiber. When I do find my way out of this cell, she'll be the first one I exact revenge on."

He wanted to turn back, to threaten her. He forced himself to fade his illusion, coming back to himself in the corridor. Going to see Amora had been a mistake. He'd learned nothing, and he'd given too much away. If Amora knew that Kyra was his weak spot, then it put her more at risk and made him vulnerable.

There was one person who would be able to tell if Amora were lying, but Loki was not letting her anywhere near the dungeons. He should tell her. At least then she could be prepared, but she had enough to worry about without adding a possible stalker to the list. He stopped short when he reached the upstairs corridor. Kyra was walking into the castle, still wearing her armor. Their eyes met, and she opened her mouth as if to speak. Nothing came out, and he had turned to stone.

Then they both spoke at once, their words colliding midair. "I saw a doctor today–" "There's something you should know–"

Kyra flushed. She was suddenly so awkward around him as if she didn't know how to behave in his presence. Had he pushed her away or had she pushed him? "Sorry," she apologized. She was always apologizing, and he didn't know why.

"You saw a doctor?" He latched onto her words. He studied her face for any sign of what she was about to say. She looked calm. Perhaps a bit nervous, but she seemed to be nervous around _him_. Gone was the easy comfort they'd had before. Perhaps that had only been an illusion.

"She's going to look into the serum, see if there's any way she could counter it. She…she didn't know one way or another." She twisted the arm guard on her left wrist, the gold glinting in the sunlight that streamed in through the stained glass windows.

He should have been the one to take her to see the medic. He'd made a promise and rendered it empty the very next day. He remembered Amora's words. _You never used to wear your weaknesses. But now they're stitched into every fiber._ He stiffened, and Kyra noticed the movement despite its subtlety.

"I just thought you might want to know," she said, words coming out in a harsh rush. She turned to leave, and he reached out as if to grasp her arm. His hand paused midair, and she stopped to look at him. There was a wariness there he hadn't seen before. He didn't understand it. He drew his hand back. She watched him another moment before turning to leave.

"I did," he said softly. She paused for a heartbeat, tilting her head ever so slightly toward him. Then she was gone.


	30. Twenty-Nine: Starting Over

**Twenty-Nine – Starting Over**

A few days turned into a few weeks as Mareth tried to create an antidote. Kyra spent all of her time training with Sif when she wasn't locked away in her room worrying. She'd read several of the tomes in her room to distract herself and wished she'd learned where the library was located in the palace. She thought about asking one of the guards but then she remembered Loki saying he'd take her there and somehow she couldn't bring herself to go without him. She hadn't seen him in those weeks. She found herself wondering what he was doing, if he missed her company as much as she missed his.

Finally, nearly three weeks after meeting Mareth, the woman summoned her to the medical facility. Kyra was a nervous wreck as she made her way there. Mareth greeted her with a tight smile, and Kyra knew the news wasn't good. They sat down in Mareth's office, a light, airy room with comfortable chairs and walls covered in laden bookshelves. Kyra perched at the edge of her seat, heart beating loudly in her chest.

"I've run extensive tests on the serum in your blood," Mareth told her. "But because this particular sample is imperfect, I have not been able to create an antidote."

Kyra nodded, biting her lip. "What does this mean for me?" she asked though she thought she already knew.

Mareth folded her hands, leaning back in her chair. "I've managed to create my own serum to counteract the affects, slow them. It won't stop the degeneration, but it should slow it, give you more time."

"How much more time? How much time do I have?" Kyra both needed and feared the answer.

"It's impossible to say. It could be years. It could be months. I have nothing to compare it to. I'll continue to study the serum and your health. I might be able to come up with something more definite."

"I understand," Kyra said with a nod, sounding much calmer than she felt.

"If I were to get a pure sample of the serum, I could create an antidote," Mareth went on. "Is there any chance of that?" Her voice was gentle, and Kyra knew she didn't want to get her hopes up.

Kyra shook her head. "My parents are dead, and they never perfected it. They didn't get a chance."

"I'm sorry, Kyra. I wish I had better news. My best advice to you is to make the most of your time. Please come back once a week, and we'll see if my serum has a positive affect." She picked up a needle and poked it through the top of a bottle of clear liquid. "I'll give you your first injection today," she said. "I must warn you first—you might experience a temporary loss of your abilities. Seeing through illusions, telling truth from lies. It might be a little disorienting."

"Does seeing through illusions and lies worsen my condition?" Kyra asked. "I don't know how to turn off that part of my power."

"It might over time, but I believe it's the casting of illusions that draws the most on your reserves." She came around the side of the desk, needle in hand. "May I?" Kyra nodded and Mareth injected the serum into her blood stream. It rushed like ice, and Kyra shut her eyes a moment, a wave of dizziness overcoming her. When she opened her eyes, she felt muted, like the world was a little less bright.

"Take it easy for an hour or two," Mareth suggested.

"Okay, I will." She stood, slightly off balance, and Mareth reached out to steady her. "I'm okay," she assured Mareth though she felt anything but.

She felt exposed as she left the medical facility. Anyone could lie to her, and she wouldn't know it. She avoided people, moving back toward the palace. Sif had been gone for a few days, off with the Warrior's Three on a mission. Kyra already missed their sword fighting lessons even though it had only been a few days since she'd left. The thought of being cooped up in her room had Kyra veering toward the training grounds, her trusty knife at her side. She knew she should be resting, but she didn't think she could sit still with the itchiness in her blood. She hadn't practiced throwing knives since her lessons with Loki, and she hadn't asked to resume them. Their most recent conversation had been so stilted, and she wished they could go back to their easy way even if it had been mostly arguing.

The targets were empty, and Kyra was glad for that. She felt vulnerable without her ability to see through lies and illusions even if her gift was slowly killing her. She took aim and threw. The knife embedded itself in the very edge of the target. Kyra retrieved it and tried again. She threw it over and over until her clarity sharpened, the dizziness she'd felt before fading. She channeled her emotions into throwing the knife until, to her surprise, it hit dead center in the target, quivering from the force of her throw.

"Impressive."

Kyra started, whirling around to find a familiar-looking guard. She squinted at him. Then she realized why he looked familiar. It was the guard-guise Loki took on. Her heart skipped a beat. She couldn't see through it. Couldn't see _him_. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out.

"Kyra?" He furrowed his brow in worry, and she felt a rush of relief at his concern.

"The doctor gave me something to help slow the effects of the serum. But there's a side effect. I can't see through illusions anymore. It's temporary, but…" She let her words trail off, but he understood.

"You can't see me," he said slowly, softly. He didn't drop the illusion. He couldn't. She shook her head. "Can she find a cure?" he asked. He took a step closer and then stopped.

"Maybe. She doesn't know. The serum in my blood isn't pure enough to create an antidote, and my parents died before they could complete it, so…"

"What happened to their research?" he asked. Kyra didn't answer at first. She'd never considered this. She knew the police had found evidence of their research because some of the newspaper articles had brought up suspicions about the experiments her parents had been doing. She'd resented the implications even though she knew the harsh truth of what they'd done.

"I don't know," she said. "I suppose the police would have seized it. Maybe it's sitting in an evidence box along with all their other stuff. It's a cold case now. It wouldn't matter anyway because they never perfected the serum."

"No, but perhaps someone in Asgard could."

Kyra shook her head. "I don't have any way of knowing where that research ended up. No use in hoping."

The look Loki gave her was sad. She wished she could see his blue-green eyes instead of the guard's light brown ones, his dark brows that were always so expressive despite his efforts to keep his emotions hidden. Somehow his expressions on the guard's face didn't have the same effect. "There's always use in hoping," he told her.

"I miss you," she blurted before she could stop herself. She couldn't read his expression, not on the guard's face. She wanted to take the words back, but…they were the truth. "I was just afraid I'd come to rely on you too much, that I'd grown weak. But if I truly don't have much time left…I don't want to spend it at odds. I'm sorry if I hurt you before. I didn't know how to handle what I felt…" She broke off. She hadn't meant to say any of this. She bit her lip and waited for him to speak, wishing she could see him through the illusion. What if he thought her a burden? It was part of why she'd drawn away from him. If she only had a little time left, wouldn't it hurt all the more if she let herself get close to him? That wasn't fair to either of them, and yet she didn't want to pull away anymore. She wasn't sure what she felt anymore either though. They'd gone from arguments to passion so quickly, and she'd been left reeling. She wanted to get to know him on a plane somewhere in between.

"Please say something." She was painfully aware of his silence.

"I…miss you too," he finally said. "I'd grown so used to our arguments that it's a bit dull without them."

"Can we try to build a relationship on something other than arguments?" she asked. "A friendship, I mean. I don't presume to be…I mean, we're not…" She flushed, words not quite making the journey from her brain to her mouth properly. "Can we just start over?" she finally asked.

His lips quirked. "Start over?"

"No expectations, no arguments, just you and me getting to know each other properly." She held out her hand, feeling just short of foolish and yet determined to repair the strain they'd put on their relationship. Friendship. Whatever it was.

The guard-Loki cocked his head in a very Loki-esque gesture. Then he took her hand and shook it. "Have I mentioned how odd humans are?" he asked.

Kyra couldn't help the grin that spread across her face. "Once or twice." She dropped his hand and went to retrieve her knife. "How do you feel about resuming our lessons?"

…

Kyra returned to her room later achy and exhausted yet strangely satisfied. She hadn't realized just how much she'd missed the trickster's company but now instead of feeling like a weakness, it felt like much-needed human interaction. She trusted him. She liked spending time with him whether learning how to wield a knife and fight or competing in heated battles of wit. It was also a relief when he didn't pull away from her. It made her feel hopeful, more alive like she wasn't counting the days until she died but the days she lived.

"How would you like to go for a ride?" Loki asked her a week after they'd resumed their training. Sif was still away, and Loki had been vague about the mission he'd sent her and the Warriors Three on. She didn't think he wanted to lie to her, but he evaded the truth, telling her a story about bandits being sighted camping out in the mountains. She wouldn't have been able to tell the truth from the lies anyway having just taken a second injection of Mareth's serum. She was getting used to the dull sensation of being normal again. At least it didn't come with the anxiety she'd carried the better half of her life. It was amazing how reliant she'd become on her abilities. She'd been so focused on Loki, thinking her trust in him was her weakness when, all along, it had been he abilities the serum had given her. Maybe she'd been desperate to feel strong enough to belong, desperate to escape the fear she'd lived with for so much of her life.

"Ride?" she echoed Loki's suggestion. "As in a horse?"

He lifted a brow. "Well I certainly wasn't offering to carry you around the city on my back."

"Okay, okay, no need to be so snarky. You _know_ how I feel about horses." She twisted the hem of her tunic nervously.

"I thought you wanted to see more of Asgard."

"I do…"

"And what better way than on horseback?"

"On foot, in a car," Kyra ticked off on her fingers, "on a bike, basically just not on a horse."

"I'll let you ride Asta." Kyra had already opened her mouth to argue, but she stopped at this.

"Really?" She had to admit that she maybe just a tiny bit liked that horse. Loki had trained her himself after all. She'd never done anything to make Kyra doubt her. Loki knew he had her now, his smile turning smugly triumphant. "Okay, _fine_ ," Kyra conceded. "But only because Asta is special."

She'd assumed Loki meant to show her more around the city, riding at a nice steady _walk_. What she didn't think he'd meant was to _trot_ out of the city and into the wilderness beyond.

"Isn't this where bandits have been sighted?" she asked, her butt hitting the saddle over and over, each time a little more painful than the last.

"They're not here," Loki told her, still refusing to elaborate. She knew he was keeping something from her, but it was too beautiful a day to press the point when it could all too easily turn into another of their arguments. They'd been doing well lately. They hadn't fought once save their normal bickering and even that was much friendlier than before. "Anyway, you can handle that knife pretty well now."

That was true. She'd improved significantly under his tutelage. She could even hit the bull's eye or near to it _almost_ every time she threw the knife. Loki had started moving the target further and further away, challenging her until she could hit it from quite a distance away.

"What about bilgesnipe?" she asked. She didn't think she could hit one of those on horseback. She was having a hard enough time staying in the saddle.

"Not likely to be anywhere near the city."

"Any other mythical monsters I should be aware of?" She couldn't see his face, but she knew he was rolling his eyes. He slowed his horse to a walk, and Asta dropped into the same gait much to Kyra's relief. Loki had picked a deep bay gelding to ride. He seemed high-strung, and she noticed Loki kept his reins short to keep him in control. She was glad she was on Asta who was gentle as a rabbit around Kyra as if sensing her rider's inexperience. Kyra smoothed a hand down her neck, releasing her death-grip on the pommel of the saddle.

"Relax," Loki said. He put a hand on her back, and her spine stiffened at his touch, more out of surprise than anything. He hadn't touched her past their awkward handshake. "Straighten your back," he instructed, "and quit gripping the saddle. You're not going to fall off." His hand was gone, but Kyra's spine could still feel the faint impression of it.

"I'm not sure what the use is. I'll never be good at this."

"That's because you're letting your fear get in the way," he said.

She huffed but kept her back straight and her hands away from the pommel of the saddle. "Where are we going?"

"Do we need to go anywhere? Just enjoy the scenery. You're far too tense."

She sent him a glare. She was jealous of his ease in the saddle, of his fearlessness. Nothing seemed to faze him, but she supposed growing up a prince had taught him discipline and fearlessness. And also this was just a ride through the countryside. Maybe she _was_ too tense.

"It is beautiful," she conceded, turning to gaze at the scenery. The trees hummed with birdsong, the scent of pine heady in the warm air. They followed a road that had been well trodden over the years—centuries—and she could see different paths leading off into the woods. She turned back and started. Loki had shed his illusion, and she could see the true him for the first time in weeks. He saw the surprise on her face.

"No one can see us here," he said.

"I missed seeing you," Kyra said then flushed. "I mean, the real you, not the fake you. Well, not _fake_ you just not really you–"

She cut off at the sound of Loki's laughter. "Why are you so nervous?" he asked her, familiar greenish eyes dancing with amusement.

"I'm not nervous," she said an octave too high. "I just…I know it's you behind the illusion, but I hate not being able to see through it." She realized what a ridiculous thing that was to say. Her ability to see through illusions was _killing_ her, and she missed it? "Well, you know what I mean." She hoped he did because she didn't quite know how to put it into words.

"I think I do. I'm sorry I have to put up illusions even in front of you sometimes," he said softly, brows drawing up in an expression of genuine concern.

"I get why you have to though."

"Sometimes I wish I didn't. I wish…" He broke off as if rethinking his words.

"Wish what?" she prompted.

"Wish Asgard could accept me—the _real_ me—as its king." There was something wistful in his tone, and Kyra didn't think it was because he wanted all the glory in his name. He wanted people to recognize that he could be a good king, that he could earn the right to rule. Taking the throne the way he'd done wouldn't make a good impression, but she also understood why he'd done it. No one was willing to give him a chance, so he took it in the only way he knew how. He'd tricked them. There was more to Loki than his tricks though, and she wished other people could see that. But she wasn't sure they'd ever give him that chance.

"I wish that too," she finally said. He gave her a surprised look. She'd seen it often on his face whenever she said something unexpected. It softened his face, his brows drawing upward a little, the pale skin between them furrowing. He frowned a little doubtfully. She shrugged, a smile tugging her lips. "Maybe you didn't need to work that hard to convince me after all. I just needed to see through all the illusions you put up, needed to see the _real_ you."

He didn't seem to know what to say for once, so Kyra nudged Asta a little faster. "I'll race you." She took off at a fast trot, Asta snorting at the unimpressive speed. Then Loki's horse shot past, and Asta flicked her ears forward. She waited patiently for Kyra's command, however, an obedient horse down to the last. "Okay, fine," Kyra told her. "Just don't let me fall off." She tapped her heels to the mare's sides, and Asta shot off. Kyra fell forward, catching herself on the horse's neck. Then she regained her balance, gripping the pommel for dear life. She didn't fall though. She felt her fear melting away. This wasn't so bad, she thought as the trees flew by. This was like flying.


	31. Thirty: Breakout

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the long wait. I've been so busy with work lately getting ready for our library's comic con that we put on every year. I'm in charge of the fan art contest and put up all the entries this morning. It's always a relief to get that done-I've just been too tired to write when I get home, but I'm going to try to write another chapter tomorrow since I have the day off.

Thanks as always for reading!

* * *

 **Thirty – Breakout**

After their initial ride together, Loki convinced Kyra to ride with him most days after that, always on Asta and usually at a slow pace. He didn't mind. It gave him the chance to shed his guise so that she could see the true him and to enjoy the parts of Asgard he hadn't had time for in a long time. Spending time with her also enabled him to keep a closer eye on her.

He'd ridden back the next day after finding the camp and the photo of Kyra only to find it gone, all traces that it had been there vanished. He'd ridden out every day for a week to no avail, finally sending Sif and the Warriors Three to search the far reaches of Asgard. His greatest fear was that they were already in the city, and he'd taken to walking the streets in different guises, looking for anyone who didn't fit in. He found nothing, and his frustration grew. He sometimes followed Kyra too in the guise of a guard or an Asgardian she wouldn't recognize. It felt like tricking her, but it was for her own safety. So far the serum she'd been taking kept her from seeing through any illusions though she was no closer to a permanent solution to her degeneration. He didn't notice any signs of weakness, any signs that the serum was killing her. Sometimes he had to remind himself she wasn't a delicate glass flower. He'd gone easy on her in one of their training lessons which had landed him with a bloody nose from her sharp elbow and a sore foot from the heel of her boot. She'd won that round with embarrassing ease, scowling because she knew he hadn't been trying hard enough. He'd tried harder after that though he never hurt her, always pulling back before he could do any harm.

She was improving. She still didn't have a fraction of the strength of an Asgardian, but she was good at catching him off guard, fast and slight enough to outthink a stronger opponent. It wasn't enough though. If someone were truly after her, they could easily overpower her. She was still mortal and new to any form of fighting. But he couldn't hover, couldn't crowd her. He knew that now. She was like a cat who basked in attention one moment and then turned it away the next when it became too much. He was careful to balance that, careful to keep his distance unless she said otherwise. Which, so far, she hadn't. It was different when they were fighting. She was vicious and had no qualms about contact. No qualms about punching him in the face either which she'd managed once or twice after he'd told her it was all right to actually hit him.

He hadn't been to see Amora again though he still had doubts about her. He wasn't sure she had any way of contacting the outside world, but it seemed too likely that she had allies somewhere colluding with her against him. And he couldn't forget that she knew his secret. She could have told someone before her arrest. That thought set him on edge, made him jumpy. In a way, Amora had won. She'd gotten in his head, and she wasn't letting go.

He'd expected some pain with the time he spent around Kyra, but she was so full of life that dying seemed an impossibility. He wanted to deny the possibility. And he did for a long time as the weeks stretched into months.

Sif and the Warriors Three had returned empty handed though they'd slain a few beasts along the way. Maybe Kyra's stalker had moved on. Loki could almost believe he'd imagined the photo but for the whisper of suspicion in the back of his mind whenever anyone spoke to Kyra. That was happening more and more often as she explored more of the city with him or Sif. The Asgardians accepted her as one of them, and he could see the warm glow on Kyra's face at the acceptance. She was beginning to relax, beginning to trust. He couldn't help the tiny sliver of jealousy that crept into his heart as he stood, disguised, by her side, craving the same acceptance and yet receiving none of it. He guiltily brushed the feeling away. That wasn't fair to Kyra.

He had acceptance on the throne but it was a weak, filtered acceptance that had nothing to do with him. Now that Kyra couldn't see through his illusion, it was like he didn't exist at all. He didn't realize how much his resentment had been festering until he snapped at Kyra. They'd been exploring the gardens that lay at the heart of the city. It was a beautiful, temperate day, the breeze blowing in scents of a hundred flowers, mingling together in a heady perfume. He'd just sat through a particularly grueling council meeting, spending the entire time wondering how Odin had put up with the prolonged and utterly useless meetings. Nothing ever got decided. Everyone was so set in their ways that suggesting a change was akin to tipping over a large vessel and watching its passengers drown.

"Everyone's been so kind to me," Kyra was saying. "Maybe I was expecting to be treated like an outsider, but I haven't been."

"I'm glad it's so easy for you." The words came out before he could stop them, much sharper and crueler than he meant. He watched as her expression went to shock and then anger.

"Easy?" She lifted a dark brow. Then she stood up from the bench they'd been sitting on.

Loki reached out to lightly grasp her wrist, an apology already on his tongue. "I'm sorry," he said. She didn't pull away from him, letting his fingers gently bracelet her wrist. Her skin was warm, smooth. "I didn't mean that. I _am_ glad you're fitting in."

He felt like he'd failed her. They'd been getting along so well, but he'd slipped up. He waited for the storm to come. When she didn't speak, he continued. She was giving him a chance to explain. "I'm in a foul mood from the council meeting. You know how dull they are. But it wasn't fair to take it out on you."

"That's not it though." Even when she couldn't see through his lies, through his illusions, she still saw straight through him.

He let go of her wrist, tapping his fingers along his wrist instead. "You don't have to put up illusions to be accepted," he said softly. "And maybe a tiny part of me is jealous of that. I'm not proud of it."

He couldn't read her expression. Did she want to rage at him? Had he hurt her? Could she possibly understand? He knew she did. She understood how it felt to spend a lifetime craving acceptance. He swallowed hard, realizing how much _her_ acceptance mattered to him. He stayed sitting, letting her stand over him, eyes still impossible to read. Then she blinked, a little gasp escaping her lips.

"Kyra?"

"I can see you. Through the illusion. Did you drop it?"

He shook his head. "Is the serum wearing off?"

Kyra didn't reply. She put her hand to her nose, and it came away bloody. Then her knees gave out. Loki caught her before she hit the paved ground, pulling her into his arms. "Kyra? _Kyra_?" He gently shook her shoulder, and she groaned.

"It hurts. Everything hurts," she breathed shakily. Her dark eyes fluttered shut.

"Kyra." She was unconscious. Loki felt panic surging through his veins. He stood, hefting her lightly up and walking as quickly as he could to the medical facility where she'd been getting treatments. A woman with grey-streaked hair rushed forward.

"What happened?" she asked, brushing a hand over Kyra's forehead.

"She passed out. She—her abilities came back," Loki said, not wanting to betray his illusion though it seemed so petty now compared to his fear for Kyra.

"Bring her this way," the woman instructed. She ushered Loki into an examination room, and he set her gently down on a padded table. The woman worked quickly, bringing up a scan of her brain. She frowned.

"What is it?" Loki asked, his words coming out sharp, scared.

"The damage is progressing at an increased rate," the doctor said, frowning. "The serum I produced is failing. It's not enough."

"Can anything be done?" Loki asked. He looked down at Kyra whose olive skin was pale. He pushed her hair back from her forehead and found it to be burning up. She let out a small moan, and he took her hand, letting her know he was there.

The doctor gave him a sad look. "Without a pure sample of the serum her parents created, I don't have a way to counteract it. The serum is designed to change her genetic makeup. It fuses with her in a way that's irreversible. The imperfect serum is taking over like a virus rather than merging with her existing DNA. It's taking down everything in its path slowly and methodically. Soon it will cause irreversible damage. I thought my serum would slow it, but it's mutated. It's overcome any of the counter-effects. The best thing for her is to rest. Say her goodbyes."

Those weren't the words Loki wanted to hear. She had been getting better. She had been so _alive_ only moments before. He wasn't ready. He was never going to be ready.

"I can give her something to help her sleep, but I'm afraid she doesn't have much time. I'm sorry." She put a hand on Loki's shoulder. He nearly shrugged it off, unused to people touching him. He stopped himself.

"Thank you for everything you've done for her," he said softly.

"I'm sorry I couldn't do more."

Loki settled Kyra in her room after they left the doctor. The doctor had given her something to help her sleep without pain, but Loki wished she would wake. He sat next to her on the bed, her hand in his, watching her breathe in and out just to assure himself that she hadn't left him. Not yet. But she would. He was terrified of the thought of a life without her. They were still getting to know each other. He hadn't made things right yet, hadn't reconciled how he felt about her. He'd once called his brother weak for loving a mortal, and yet here he was about to break down because this girl, this _mortal_ , was on the verge of dying. He'd never felt a hollowness quite like this before. He was afraid to close his eyes in case he didn't get a chance to say goodbye.

"Please don't leave me," he whispered.

…

Kyra awoke from a thick fog that clouded her mind. She couldn't remember what had happened or how she'd gotten here. She was in her bed, still wearing the clothes she'd been wearing earlier when she'd been walking with Loki. Loki. She'd _seen_ him, seen through his illusion. Then she'd fainted. What had happened after that? She remembered pain and then emptiness, slipping in and out of consciousness. She remembered the feel of his arms around her, his hand in hers. She looked around and found him slumped in a chair next to her bed.

"Loki?" Her voice was croaky and dry, but he woke immediately, shooting up from his seat as if she'd shocked him.

"Kyra." He reached forward to feel her forehead, and she pulled away. "You were burning up for two days," he told her by way of explanation.

"Oh. What happened?" She relaxed, but he didn't try to touch her again.

"You passed out. I took you to the doctor who's been treating you." He hesitated, and Kyra sat up in the bed.

"What did she say?" she asked. She knew it was bad news. "It's okay, Loki."

"No, it's not," he snapped. His eyes burned green, cold fury trapped within them. "It's not okay."

"I don't have long, do I?" She didn't know how she was so calm. Perhaps she'd been waiting for this news for so long that it didn't surprise her. Loki on the other hand looked furious. He stood, nearly knocking the chair over backwards.

"Not long." He twisted his hands together.

"We knew this was coming," Kyra softly reminded him. "Was it a mistake spending time together?" She had no regrets save the hurt she was causing him. She wished she could take the pain away.

"The pain never gets any easier," he said quietly, refusing to look at her. "But that doesn't mean it isn't worth it." He finally turned to look at her, eyes softening, the hints of blue showing brighter. "No. It wasn't a mistake."

"I don't think so either. These last few months have been the greatest of my life," she told him. It was the truth. She'd never felt such a sense of belonging before, and her renewed friendship with Loki had made the days fuller. She hadn't pushed for more—it would only hurt more. Instead, she settled for friendship, hoping it might hurt less when the serum finally won the battle. "It's more than I could have ever hoped for."

"You should have more."

"It isn't always about more." Sometimes it was about making the most of what you had. Loki was always wanting more. Maybe he couldn't understand what she meant. Satisfaction wasn't in his nature as he'd said before. He'd never be satisfied with the time they'd been given. He had to learn to let go.

He came to sit on the edge of her bed, the fury gone from his eyes. "What if I want more?" he asked, eyes clear. She opened her mouth to respond though she didn't know what to say. She was saved the trouble when a terrific rumbling rocked the palace shaking the paintings on her walls.

Loki bolted to his feet as an alarm rang deep within the palace. "Stay here," he commanded, striding toward the door. His eyes met hers once more before he shut the door. She heard his receding footsteps, running toward the source of the explosion. Another explosion rocked the palace, and Kyra got to her feet, unsteady at first. Her body felt chilled, achy, weak. She hated that feeling. She grabbed her knife and headed for the door, stumbling over her own feet. She needed to know what was happening. She knew it was irrational to worry over Loki when he was a _god_ , but she did nonetheless.

She heard shouts from down below and headed toward the source of the chaos. The dungeons, of course. A surge of panic ran through her. If Amora were to get loose… She wanted revenge on Loki and on Kyra. There was no telling what she would do if she escaped. But if she _could_ escape, why had she spent all this time in the dungeons? Did she have someone helping her?

Kyra reached the dungeons, her breath laboring. She saw that huge chunks of the ceiling and walls had been carved away, turned to dust. Guards lay strewn about the floor, half buried under piles of rubble. "Loki?" she called out softly. There was no answer, but she didn't dare call out louder.

"Looking for this?" a voice called out from the dungeons. The dust cleared and a tall woman strode forward. She wore a dress of deep plum, red hair tumbling over her shoulders. Sharp green eyes were filled with cunning. Kyra knew those eyes. They were Amora's eyes, but this was not Amora.

The redheaded woman held Loki by the collar, a knife to his throat. "I don't need this, you know," she snarled softly into his ear. Kyra saw fear dance in his eyes. Whoever this was, she was dangerous enough that Loki feared her. To Kyra's horror, Amora joined the redheaded woman, shaking her dark curls back from her face. The resemblance was uncanny.

"Dear sister, you really didn't need to cause such a fanfare to rescue me," she crooned.

Sister? There were _two_ of them?

"I wooed my way into Asgard and into the palace, but I wanted to have a little fun. It sent him running straight to us," Amora's sister said, tugging Loki back by his hair, knife caressing his throat.

"Who are you?" Kyra asked. She felt suddenly weak, her legs trembling. Amora caught the motion, a satisfied smirk tugging at her lips.

"Yes, how rude of me. Let me make the introductions," she purred. "This lovely woman is Lorelei. My sister and a powerful enchantress. Perhaps," at this she frowned just a little, "more powerful than I."

That did not bode well. "What do you want?" Kyra asked.

"I spent six hundred years imprisoned in these dungeons," Lorelei hissed. The dagger pressed into Loki's throat, drawing blood. Kyra took a step forward as if she could do something to stop Lorelei. "I want to dismantle Asgard starting with its false king. And you." Her eyes flashed. "I heard you were instrumental in the capture of my sister. Take her, too." She spoke to someone behind Kyra. Kyra whirled around to find herself face-to-face with a vaguely familiar man. Her memories clicked into place, and she took a step back away from him.

"You!"

"Thought I was dead?" he asked with a rough laugh. "You thought wrong."


	32. Thirty-One: Surrender

**Thirty-One – Surrender**

Kyra stared into the eyes of a man she never thought she'd see again, frustration and fear boiling her blood. It was one of the two Hydra men who had invaded her apartment back in Greenwich and chased after her, threatening to take her in to Hydra to extract her memories. He was the one she'd stabbed in the leg, who had fallen through the side of the Bifrost in her flight back to Asgard. He grabbed her by the hair as Lorelei had done to Loki, pulling her head back. She cried out in pain, scrabbling against him, but she was still weak.

"It took me awhile, but I got out of that wretched wormhole you dropped me into. Found my way here. Found her." He nodded to Lorelei who smiled indulgently.

"I didn't even need to _convince_ him to help me," she said silkily.

"That's a first," Loki said, earning himself another bite from the knife.

"You didn't need much convincing," Lorelei purred into his ear, so like her sister. Amora scowled, and Kyra began to put things together.

"Wait a minute…"

Lorelei's eyes flashed to her, and Amora's frown deepened. "Oh, I'm sorry, peach, does it hurt to learn you aren't the first? Not even the second or third, really."

"Considering you've all lived centuries longer than me, I think it's a given you've had a few more lovers. You have truly horrible taste in women," she threw at Loki.

"Sorry, little sister," Lorelei told Amora. "You know I can't help myself."

"What exactly is your ability?" Kyra asked.

"Persuasion," Lorelei turned green eyes on her. "I can make any man fall for me. Some don't need much prodding. I mean, look at me." She was beautiful, Kyra would give her that, but if she was anything like her sister, her personality was sorely lacking.

"What were you imprisoned for?" Kyra asked, trying to ignore the uncomfortable tug as the Hydra agent kept hold of her long hair. "Six hundred years seems like a long time, but I suppose it doesn't feel like long for someone so _old_." She knew she shouldn't be letting her words loose so carelessly, but she literally had nothing to lose, so what the hell.

Lorelei's eyes narrowed. "Careful, little dove. Someone might just feel the need to cut that silver tongue of yours out."

"What do you want? Revenge? Amora already tried that. Look where it landed her. I'm pretty sure Loki is over both of you, so maybe you should try to move on. It's a little pathetic, really."

Lorelei's playful expression faded. "Who do you think you are?" she asked in disbelief. "Let me help you answer that." She let go of Loki, thrusting him at Amora who drew her own knife at him. Lorelei took a few steps forward, hips swaying with the movement. "You are nothing." She reached forward and snagged Kyra's jaw, fingernails pressing into her cheeks deep enough to dent the skin but not quite hard enough to draw blood. "You are a pathetic mortal. A plaything. He'll grow tired of you, cast you aside. If he could have _me_ , why would he ever choose _you_?"

"I don't really care one way or another," Kyra told her though it was a lie.

"Yeah, I didn't sign up for this emotional showdown," the Hydra agent said, tugging Kyra away from Lorelei who frowned ever so slightly.

"You're right," she said after a moment. "It's all in the past."

"Apparently not if you're still trying to exact revenge," Loki said despite Amora's knife aimed at his heart.

"You two are quite the duo, aren't you?" Lorelei said. "You don't know when to stop talking. Let me tell you how it's going to go. My sister and I get the throne, the mortal here gets the girl, and, well, you get nothing, dear Loki."

"Let go of me!" Kyra squirmed against the Hydra agent's grip. She didn't have the energy to fight even after all her training. She knew she could overcome him after everything Loki had taught her and the hours she'd put into practice. He wasn't even an immortal god, but she felt so _weak_. For the first time since she'd received her diagnosis, she really felt like she was dying. But somehow that terrified her less than going with this man.

"Come to think of it, you'd be a lot less of a problem if _you_ went with them," Lorelei said to Loki. His eyes widened ever so slightly, and Kyra could see fear there. She expected him to summon an illusion, fight them, _something_ , but he didn't move. He looked at her, meeting her gaze, eyes holding hers in something like pleading. Then she realized he wasn't fighting because he was afraid _she_ would get hurt. That was the best way to make sure he'd cooperate, and everyone in the room knew that. She was his weakness. Don't sacrifice yourself for me, she wanted to tell him. She was already gone.

"Why don't we show the people who's been playing at king first," Lorelei suggested. Amora's eyes glinted with glee while Kyra's heart fell. Loki didn't blink, but she knew what he must be feeling. He was about to lose everything. All he'd be left with was her when she was already almost gone.

"Wait," she said though she had nothing to offer them. "Don't do that. I'll cooperate if you keep his secret."

"Kyra," Loki nearly groaned her name. He shook his head.

"It doesn't matter anymore," she said. They didn't know she was dying. She could hold onto that secret, render their bargaining chip useless. "But it _does_ matter for you."

"Asgard will never accept you as its ruler," Loki snapped at Lorelei. "Your sister already tried it, and she needed much more than her charm to do it." He sneered at Amora, heedless of the knife she held. "What makes you think you can do any better?" He sent the challenge at Lorelei. "The people despise you after what you did."

"That was so long ago, darling. They won't even remember." Lorelei waved him off.

"What did you do?" Kyra asked, curiosity overriding her caution.

Lorelei turned to her, flipping a lock of silky hair over her shoulder. "I may have seduced the older prince."

"You used your powers on him," Loki corrected. "And you stole Lady Sif's love interest. You broke hearts and fooled a lot of men into falling in love with you."

"It was just a bit of fun. You take everything too seriously. Thor is much more fun," Lorelei crooned. "Too bad he's not here. Maybe I won't tell the Asgardians your true identity. I think it'd be much more fun to leave you wondering. Do I tell them? Do I keep it to myself? It might just depend on my mood that day."

"I don't have time for all this," the Hydra agent broke in, voice thick with impatience. "If you can just send us back to Earth, I have an interrogation to conduct."

Lorelei's eyes flickered dangerously for a moment, but she forced a smile. "You're right." She fluttered a hand at him. "Let us go to the Bifrost, and I'll make sure the gatekeeper sends you and this false prince on his way. Any hint of a trick and I'll break every finger on her pretty little hands," Lorelei threatened Loki, nodding at Kyra.

"She can trick too," Amora warned her sister. "Don't underestimate her."

"Like you did?" The words were cutting. Amora seemed to shrink under Lorelei's sharp tone.

"She's clever for a mortal," Amora defended herself, green eyes flashing. Kyra watched the exchange with interest. Clearly the sisters were not on the best of terms. Allies only in name. She didn't have time to think up a plan though. The Hydra agent was pushing her up the stairs while Amora followed with Loki. He cast an illusion, changing to the familiar guard again, and Amora laughed.

"Your tricks won't save you now."

"He's just trying to preserve his image. The wanna-be king who doesn't have the nerve to show his true self to his kingdom." Lorelei took the lead. Kyra felt a surge of hope when she saw guards running toward them, but they stopped short when Lorelei smiled widely at them. "You're going to be dears and let us pass, aren't you now?" she asked, her voice cloying and sweet. Kyra wanted to shout at them, shake their shoulders until they came to their senses. They moved aside and let them pass.

Amora cast an illusion over all of them as they continued into the city. Kyra wanted to fight, but she'd never felt her mortality so strongly before. Maybe they could convince Skurge not to listen to Lorelei but from what Kyra had already seen, Lorelei's abilities were quite strong. She wasn't an enchantress in the same way Amora was, but she was an enchantress nonetheless. Amora was currently taunting Loki, gleeful about her unexpected release. Apparently she hadn't been in contact with Lorelei in some years, but Lorelei had found out about her arrest and decided to help her little sister out.

She made them walk the rainbow bridge. By now Kyra was panting from the exertion. Her sides were splitting, and she was seeing stars. The Hydra agent dragged her on, increasing the pace until she tripped, falling to her hands and knees. The road was hard beneath them, and she felt her bones jolt at the contact.

"Let me help her," Loki snapped, cutting off Amora who frowned down at Kyra.

"What's wrong with her?" she asked.

Kyra didn't want her to know the truth. "Injury," she said briefly. The Hydra agent backed off and then Loki's arm was around her, warm on her waist. He tucked her into his side, and she leaned on him. "Thank you."

"Come on; move it," the Hydra agent prodded Loki in the back. Kyra could see how badly Loki wanted to snap, but he didn't. They were both protecting each other.

"Got any tricks up your sleeve?" Kyra whispered, barely moving her lips. Amora and Lorelei had taken the lead while the Hydra agent walked behind Loki and Kyra.

"Lorelei's enchantments work on me too," he said, his tone regretful. "And illusions will only get you hurt if they fail. Once we get to Earth, we can take him down and get back to Asgard. Somehow."

"If she enchants Skurge, we'll be cut off from the Bifrost," Kyra responded with a frown.

"Shut it you two," the agent said, prodding Loki again. His grip tightened around Kyra, fists clenching.

"Save it," she hissed.

"Are you in pain?" he asked, concern peppering his words.

"Just my knees where I bruised them," she lied. She didn't know if he believed her. In truth, _everything_ hurt. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to exist. Was she dying? How long did she really have? Perhaps this was the beginning, and she'd be gone before they even reached the observation dome.

They did reach it, and it didn't take Lorelei more than a word to snatch Skurge. "Send them to Midgard," she commanded, and Skurge obediently lifted the sword.

If they went back to Earth, they were never going to get back. Her life was at its end, but Loki didn't deserve to be thrust back to Earth, exiled and alone. Maybe it wasn't about clinging onto what was left of her life but going out with a bang. Skurge began to turn the Bifrost sword. It was now or never. Kyra focused on her powers, felt them thrumming beneath her skin. She'd been ignoring them since she'd learned they were killing her, but now she let them in, surrendering to them. She reached for Lorelei's spell and snapped it.

Pain burst through her skull, and her vision went black. She felt arms around her, heard shouting. There was a metallic clang, more shouting. Then she felt herself being dragged backwards. Her vision cleared a little, and she saw Lorelei lying on the floor looking dazed. Amora was shouting at Skurge, and the Hydra agent was running at Kyra. Loki's arm was still around her.

Four other figures entered the room, and Kyra saw Sif and the Warriors Three. Sif's eyes widened as she saw Kyra. She ran toward them, reaching them at the same time as the Hydra agent. Kyra saw Amora lunge for the sword and twist it ever so slightly. It slid into place, and the Bifrost opened. Blinding light tore at Kyra's eyes. She felt herself falling, felt Loki's hands leaving her, ripped away from the force of the Bifrost. Then she was hitting the hard ground. She lay, dazed, for a long minute before pushing up on her elbows and looking around her.

This was not Earth. Dusty terrain stretched on in all directions, turning into hills and then mountains with craggy cliffs. The sky was dim as if the sun didn't reach the atmosphere. Something like a giant broken down ship lay strewn in pieces in a valley across from her. Where was she?

There was a groan, and she jumped, looking over her shoulder to see that she was not alone. Sif sat up, rubbing her shoulder. Her sword lay on the ground next to her, and her armor was dusty. She looked around the landscape before meeting Kyra's eyes.

"Where are we?" Kyra asked.

Sif took a shuddering breath. "This is Svartalfheim. Home of the Dark Elves. Some call it the Dark World."

"That…doesn't sound good," Kyra said making the understatement of the century.

"No," Sif agreed. "It most certainly is not."


	33. Thirty-Two: Svartalfheim

**Thirty-Two** **–** **Svartalfheim**

Loki landed so hard he saw stars. He blinked to clear his vision as he got unsteadily to his feet. He recognized this place. The dark, fetid, emptiness of it. This was Svartalheim, the realm of the Dark Elves. The realm where he'd faked his own death in front of Thor. The only thing that had changed was the wreckage of a ship lying in one of the dim, barren valleys. He looked around for Kyra, but he was alone. He made sure his knives were in place before starting forward toward the wreckage. He knew Kyra had been pulled into the Bifrost too. He thought perhaps Sif and the Hydra agent had been pulled into, but the world was quiet around him. Dim light filtered weakly through a black hole high above the atmosphere. It really was a horrid place, and Loki wondered if Skurge was free of Lorelei's enchantments. Kyra had broken the spell, but Lorelei would recover. She would keep them from returning.

Kyra. She had used her powers. What would that do to her in her already weakened state? He felt a desperation to find her. She had to be okay. She had to be alive. His sharpened senses picked up on a sound within the wreckage. He didn't think it had been there long; it had not yet begun to rust, and he could still smell burnt metal. He drew one of his knives, tensing as he rounded the ship. It looked like a Dark Elf vessel like the ones that had attacked Asgard. Loki's thoughts moved to his mother, and his heart raced with fury at her death. If only he hadn't been locked up, he would have protected her. He clenched his fists. It was something he blamed Thor and Odin for. The pain was still so close to the surface, and he realized he hadn't really dealt with it. It had just been there boiling underneath the surface all this time, fueling his anger and his spite.

He pushed his sudden surge of emotions aside and continued circling the crashed vessel. It was vast, some of the pieces broken off and scattered across the valley. He heard something or someone rustling around inside the interior of the vessel and crept forward, silent on his feet. He drew his second knife and readied himself. A man stepped out of the ship, starting at the sight of Loki. His eyes narrowed at the gleaming twin knives. It was the Hydra agent, looking out of his element on the alien planet. Loki thought of his treatment of Kyra and took a step toward the man. The Hydra agent tripped backwards. He knew Loki was dangerous. Good.

"Where is she?" Loki growled at him, angling one of his knives toward the agent as the man scrambled to get away. His back hit the side of the vessel, and he had nowhere left to go.

"I don't know. You're the first person I've seen here…wherever _here_ is."

"We're here because of Lorelei. Because you helped her." He'd threatened Kyra multiple times. Now it was his turn to be threatened.

"I'm just trying to do my job. Hydra wants that girl. She's the one that stabbed me and kicked me out into the middle of—"

"Shut up," Loki snapped. "Hydra ruined her, took everything from her. I should kill you right now." He would have. He wouldn't have blinked, but he could picture Kyra grabbing his arm, stopping him. _He's not worth it_ , she would say. Loki took a step back, stowing his knives. "Don't go looking for her. Make your own way home," he spat.

"Wait!" The man started after Loki. "I don't know how to get out of this place."

"And how is that my problem?" Loki felt no sympathy for this man. He'd harmed Kyra, and he'd do it again. "Why don't you go crying to Lorelei? You two seemed to be getting on splendidly."

Loki stalked off, not bothering to check if the man was following him. He needed to find Kyra. Needed to make sure she was safe. He figured she must have come out of the Bifrost somewhere near to where he had. He refused to consider the possibility that she'd been dropped on another planet entirely. As he walked, he thought he saw the hill near where he faked his own death, but he couldn't be sure. Everything looked the same. Dark, foreboding, generally unpleasant. The sooner he found Kyra and got them out of here, the better. Fortunately for him, there were other ways of getting off the planet than the Bifrost. Secret entrances that would lead them back to Asgard. He only hoped Amora wouldn't show Lorelei. Loki hadn't shown her all of them, but he had shown her some. A mistake he regretted.

…

"Can you walk?" Sif let Kyra lean on her arm as they tried to figure out where to go from there.

"I think so." Kyra took a step, her muscles groaning in protest. Her entire body was aching, and she felt feverish. "The serum really has it in for me."

"I came to see you when you were unconscious. I was so afraid you wouldn't wake." Sif's deep blue eyes held a worry that Kyra wished she could take away. She felt that same worry—an ever-gnawing ache that grew by the minute.

"I thought I had longer. Suddenly there's no time to do all the things I wanted to do or say all the things I needed to say." She'd been taking everything so incredibly slowly, and now she didn't have time to get to the place she'd been moving towards.

"Leo is here somewhere. We'll find him, and you can say exactly what you need to say." Sif gave Kyra an encouraging smile.

Kyra returned it thought it felt more like a grimace. "I'm not sure it's that easy, but let's find him."

He might know a way off this god-forsaken planet. It gave her chills while simultaneously making her feel overheated as if the ashy earth were burning despite the weakness of the sun. It was a place where hope had long ago left, and it was the last place she wanted to die.

They walked for what felt like miles until the weak light high above them began to fade. "What happens when night falls?" Kyra asked fearfully. She didn't like the dark. It had always left her feeling uncertain and exposed.

"It's going to get very dark, I think," Sif replied. "Come on."

She led them toward the mountains that stretched on all around them. Caves and tunnels dotted the exterior, and they reached the entrance of a cave just as the light was leeched from the sky. Kyra put a hand out to feel the wall next to her. "Let's hope nothing is living in here," she whispered, somehow feeling even more exposed despite the walls of the cave closing in around her. They sunk to the ground, completely blind to their surroundings.

"I'd start a fire, but I can't see my own hands," Sif said regretfully.

"I think I'm just going to shut my eyes for a few minutes," Kyra said, all her energy leaving her as if the weak sun alone had been keeping her awake. She rested her head against Sif's shoulder. Closing her eyes was no different than having them open, but it felt good as if it took a strain off of her already weakened body. She was asleep almost at once.

Her dreams were dark. She found herself standing in the throne room in Asgard, a ruby-red dress spilling out around her like a pool of blood. Her hair was woven into a harsh twist of braids atop her head, and a crown hung heavy there, the points so sharp they could draw blood. Her hand rested on the arm of the throne, and she looked over to see Loki sitting there. He didn't have an illusion over him this time. His dark hair lay in smooth waves around his shoulders, and his eyes were shining green, no hint of the usual blue to be found him them. He looked up at her and held out a hand. He was clothed in black and green, his palms covered in fingerless gloves as if ready to pull out his knives and wield them at any moment. She planted her hand in his. Was she _queen_? Loki held her gaze, his own possessive, hungry. _You're mine_ , his eyes said, and she didn't know if that thrilled or frightened her. Perhaps a little of both.

She turned her head to survey the room before them and found it filled with Asgardians. They could see Loki, but they weren't running. They weren't in chaos. They were watching their king with reverie. Kyra let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. They had accepted him. She tightened her hand around his, trying to convey her joy to him. She smiled and then coughed, holding her free hand to her mouth. Blood flecked her palm, merging with her skin, weaving between the fibers of her flesh. She coughed again, knees weakening until she had to release Loki's hand, falling to the hard, stone floor. She couldn't lift her head. Her vision blurred, and she slumped to her side. She saw Loki stand, saw him kneel down beside her.

"Loki?"

Kyra started awake at the sound of her own voice. She was still in the cave, still very much alive. The sun was beginning to rise, and she could see the outline of her hands and feet. Sif was asleep next to her, and Kyra was grateful for it. She hadn't meant to call Loki's name out aloud. What an odd dream. She didn't know what to make of it, whether to call it a nightmare or a fantasy. The ending had definitely been a nightmare and yet so close to reality. She checked her hands, expecting to see flecks of blood, but there was nothing. Perhaps she had another day.

Sif shifted beside her as Kyra stood, stretching out her limbs and walking to the entrance of the cave. She glanced behind her to find it quite shallow. No chance of a monster lingering in the shadows.

"Kyra?" Sif asked groggily.

"I'm here," she replied. "It's morning."

Sif rose, pushing her hair out of her face and straightening her armor. She gave Kyra a forced smile. "I suppose we should keep looking for Leo. And a way out of here."

"Is there a way?" Kyra asked. "I very much doubt Lorelei plans on letting us back into Asgard."

"I doubt it too, but there are other ways in and out of Asgard. When the Dark Elves attacked, Odin refused to let Thor go after their leader. Thor defied his orders and left anyway. He couldn't take the Bifrost, so he took a secret entrance out. I wasn't with him, so I'm not sure exactly where it was."

"So Thor knows all the entrances, but he's on Earth."

"Actually it was Loki who took him. But he's gone, so that doesn't do us much good either."

Kyra opened her mouth, but she couldn't exactly tell Sif all their problems might be solved. "Let's find Leo," she said instead. "Maybe the guards know some of the secrets too."

Kyra wanted to run, sprint until she found Loki, but the going was slow. Every few minutes she had to stop, leaning on Sif while she caught her breath.

"I hate this," she said. She'd been training, getting stronger, more agile. She'd been capable of taking care of herself. Now she couldn't even walk on her own. "What's that?" She pointed up ahead. There was something in the distance, dark and indistinct much like everything else.

"It looks like a crashed spaceship," Sif said after a moment. Kyra realized she could see much further than her—enhanced Asgardian senses she supposed. "Maybe Leo would have seen it too?"

"We can try." At this point Kyra just wanted to sit down. She was afraid if she did she wouldn't get up again though.

The ship was even larger up close, strewn about the ground as if it had crashed with some force. It looked familiar somehow, and Kyra couldn't figure out why until she thought back to the attack on Greenwich.

"Wait…this ship was at my school back on Earth. It crashed into the campus. I thought I was going to die. My how we've come full circle," she said bitterly.

"You're not going to die here," Sif told her.

"It doesn't really matter," Kyra said with a shrug, trying to make light of the situation though her stomach was knotting itself with worry. "I'll die here or back in Asgard. It's inevitable, so I guess it doesn't really matter where." She was too weary to play at being positive.

"We're getting off this planet."

Kyra smiled at her optimism. "I believe you. First we have to find Leo."

They circled the wreckage though Kyra knew Loki would have found them if he was inside. He could be miles away. He could be injured. She had no way of knowing. She wanted to reach out with her abilities to find his magic, but she was too afraid of the consequences.

"I think I need to rest a minute," Kyra said as she stumbled. She lowered herself to the ground, leaning her back against a broken fragment of the ship.

"I'm going to have a look inside just in case. Will you be all right?" Sif asked.

Kyra nodded. "I'll be fine. I have my knife."

"I'll be back shortly." Sif disappeared inside the ship, and Kyra leaned her head back, closing her eyes.

She must have drifted off because the next thing she knew she was waking up. She'd heard something, she realized. "Sif?" How long had she been out? It could have been seconds or hours. "Sif?" She called out a little louder, getting unsteadily to her feet.

"She really shouldn't have left you alone."

Kyra whirled around. She found herself facing the Hydra agent. He'd come through the Bifrost too. "What did you do to her?"

"She'll wake up in an hour or two. Might have a raging headache, but she'll be fine. You, however, are quickly becoming a royal pain in my ass."

"I'm not going back to Midgard with you." Kyra took a step back.

"Listen to you. You sound just like one of them. Too bad your boyfriend didn't kill me when he got the chance. I don't really feel like being gentle."

Kyra turned to run, but a coughing fit overcame her. She sunk down to her knees. Her hand came away bloody. "You might not have enough time to get me back to Earth," she said, laughing even though she found the situation far from funny.

"You come with me, and we might be able to fix that little problem," the agent said, taking another step toward her.

"I think I'd rather be dead," she told him.

"Yeah, just like your parents. Noble to the last." His words dripped with sarcasm and hatred. Kyra recoiled, but he grabbed her wrist, hauling her up. "You can walk, or I can drag you," he said, giving her wrist a tug. She cried out in pain. Her skin felt bruised where he touched. She dug her heels into the dirt even still. Her hand reached for her knife, and she drew it in one swift motion. It hovered above his shoulder but before she could drive it in, he snatched that wrist too, twisting it until she let go, cradling her hand against her chest. It felt broken.

He kicked her knife away. "You might get your wish after all if you try that again," he said, jerking her forward.

"Kill me then!" Kyra shouted at him. "I'm already dying. You can't do anything more to me."

"You don't know how wrong you are about that. I can make you beg for mercy. You think you're tough now, but you wouldn't last a minute." Kyra didn't feel strong right now but even at her weakest, she would never beg for mercy. Not from this man. Not from anyone. She spat at his face. A second later his palm connected with her face, knocking her to the ground. She screamed as her injured hand made contact.

"She's not going to be the one begging for mercy."

Kyra looked up at the voice, hardly believing it. Loki stood there, fists clenched, eyes ravenous with vengeance and fury. "Touch her again, and you will die the most gruesome, painful, merciless death," he hissed through his teeth, drawing both knives in unison. He circled around until he was standing in front of Kyra. His green cloak billowed out around him. She didn't think she'd ever seen him so livid before. His body was tensed, ready for battle. There was so much she needed to say to him, so much she needed to express, but now wasn't the time. She couldn't move from the pain that wracked her body, so she lay there, trusting him to protect her. She'd learned to fight, learned to protect herself, but sometimes you just needed someone to save you.

Loki struck before the agent could prepare himself, knocking him down to the ground and holding a knife to his throat. He raised other hand to slash.

"Loki."

He stilled at her voice, knife still poised. "This man is a monster," he said, voice rough. She knew how badly he wanted to kill the man.

"I know that, but if we kill him, how are we any better?"

Life was too short for revenge. A better vengeance would be sending him back to Earth empty handed. She slowly got to her feet, watching Loki to see what he would do. He didn't have to listen to her. He could make his own decisions. But he did listen. He drew the knives away, standing in one swift motion.

"Stay down," he warned the man before turning to Kyra. "Are you okay?" He tucked his knives away, hands going to her cheeks, her shoulders, gently cradling her hand. She could move it, so she didn't think it was broken, but the pain made her see black.

"I'm not sure okay will ever apply to me again, but I'm alive," she told him. "Thank you for saving me. If I had been healthy, I totally could have taken him."

His eyes danced. "I believe it."

"You're just humoring me."

"No, I've seen your fighting skills up close," he assured her. "You're stronger than you look."

"Not anymore."

"Lorelei was right," the Hydra agent cut in. "She is your weakness. You forgot the most important thing about a fight: never turn your back on your enemy." There was a mechanical click, and Kyra's eyes darted to the agent in time to see him raise a gun and take aim. Loki turned as the agent pulled the trigger.

"No!" Kyra put a hand to Loki's chest and thrust him back with all her might, moving in front of him. She closed her eyes and let her emotions out like a tsunami. Everything went black. And then… Something warm wrapped itself around her, something familiar. Her eyes were still shut, but she could see a green light shimmering behind them. Loki's magic. It was working in tandem with hers just like when they'd been trapped in the Infinite Forest. When she'd first used her magic, it had felt like her body was shattering, but now those shards were piecing themselves back together. She felt warm but not feverish like before. The pain receded. The fog cleared from her mind. Nothing had ever felt so _right_.

"Kyra."

She opened her eyes and saw something strange. A greenish orb surrounded them like a bubble or a giant shield. Loki's arms were around her, palms facing outward. Her own arms mimicked the pose. Ahead of her the Hydra agent lay motionless on the ground. The bullet also lay on the ground, dented as if it had hit a great force.

Kyra waited to feel faint. She waited for her magic to take its toll. It didn't. She let the shield drop, but Loki's magic still stirred around her, his hands glowing faintly green. She pressed a palm to his, entwining her fingers through his own. The magic washed over her like a cool breeze. She felt the same electric zing as she had the very first time she had felt his magic. It made her blood tingle. She couldn't get enough of the feeling.

"What's happening?" Loki asked, his voice a harsh whisper as he studied their clasped hands.

"Your magic," she told him faintly. "I think it's healing me."


	34. Thirty-Three: Clarity

**Thirty-Three – Clarity**

Loki stared at the energy that was swelling in the air before Kyra and him. It was a combination of their magic—he'd given up calling her abilities anything other than magic. Instead of harming her, however, the magic seemed to be making her stronger.

"Loki." She spoke softly as if afraid of breaking the spell. "Your magic—it's healing me."

He furrowed his brow. "Is that even possible?"

Kyra dropped her hands, and the glowing shield around them diminished. Loki let go, and it vanished completely. Kyra's skin had a faint glow to it, and color flushed her cheeks once more. She looked like the girl he'd first met. She stood straighter, flexing her fingers. "I don't feel the pain anymore," she told him, eyes alight with hopeful disbelief.

"We already discovered our magic can work in tandem, that it's stronger that way. When we broke the enchantment in the Infinite Forest..."

"I can't explain it, but I feel better. So much better." She reached out, tentatively at first, before taking his hand, studying their palms together. "Their serum was incomplete," she said, her voice filled with contemplation. "What if _this_ is the missing component? You told me yourself that a mortal body wouldn't be able to handle Asgardian magic. I couldn't handle whatever the serum was doing to me but in addition to your magic, I'm stronger."

She was trembling, but Loki didn't think it was from fear or sickness. "What if I don't have to die?" she whispered.

He hardly dared hope. "We'd need to get it tested. See if your vitals have improved. I can't imagine one brush of my magic would heal you completely."

"Then I guess I'd better stick around," she said, moving a step closer. "When I was close to death, I realized that I hadn't had enough time. I know everyone probably thinks that right before they die, but I had time. I wasted it when I should have been taking advantage of what I already had."

"And what did you have?" Loki breathed, eyes captured by hers. His heart raced beneath his skin. Kyra might not die. She might not die, and right now she looked very much as if keeping the distance between them was the last thing she wanted.

"I—"

"Kyra?" Loki heard a familiar voice behind him. Kyra's eyes widened, and she dropped Loki's hand. "Wha— How is this possible? Loki?"

It was too late for an illusion, and Loki cursed himself for having dropped it. Sometimes keeping up pretenses was unimportant compared to the matter at hand, and saving Kyra had been more important in the moment. But now Lady Sif was standing behind him, and she had seen the true him. He turned on his heels, forcing a smile, and throwing his arms out. "Surprise," he said.

Sif's eyes went between Kyra and Loki. "Kyra, get away from him!" She drew her sword, but Kyra didn't budge. Instead, she took a step between Loki and Sif, holding out her hands in a gesture of supplication.

"It's okay, Sif. He's not going to hurt me."

Sif's eyes darted between them, confusion laced through her eyes. She made no move to lower her sword. "Everyone thinks you're dead," she spat at Loki.

"Yes, a common misconception," he said, earning himself a glower.

"Where's Leo?" Sif asked, looking around. "This time you're not going to get away. We don't need you _and_ Amora and Lorelei trying to bring about Asgard's doom."

Kyra looked back at Loki. "About that..."

Sif's eyes widened. " _You_ were Leo," she directed at Loki. "It was all an illusion just like usual." There was hurt in her eyes as she looked back at Kyra. "You lied to me all this time."

"I'm so sorry, Sif! I didn't mean to hurt you." Kyra took a step toward her, but Sif stepped back, shaking her head. Loki felt a stab of regret. He'd never meant to hurt Kyra's friendship with Sif.

"It was my fault," he said. "I threatened her, threatened to throw her in the dungeons if she told anyone."

"Was that before or after you kissed? That time at the ball when I gave you advise... That was about _Loki_."

Kyra winced. "I didn't lie about any of that... Just _who_ I was talking about."

"You don't know him," Sif said sharply. "You can't possibly know him when you've been here so short a time. I've known him _centuries_ , and he always ends up hurting you. I thought he was a friend once too, but he betrayed us, betrayed his own brother. And now clearly he's betrayed his father too. How long has Odin been gone? Did you kill him?"

"No," Loki said sharply. He knew he deserved this, but this wasn't the time to argue when Amora and Lorelei were wreaking havoc in Asgard. "And now is not the time to discuss this. Right now we've got more important matters to worry about."

"You always had a weak spot for those sisters," Sif snapped. "How do we know you're not working with them?"

Loki drew in an impatient breath. "I'm not. They betrayed me over and over, and I finally learned my lesson."

"So did I." She still hadn't put her sword away, and Loki didn't think he could convince her to trust him again. Not after all his betrayals.

"Sif, please," Kyra begged. Sif's eyes softened a touch as she looked at her friend. Then they hardened again.

"You betrayed me too." Kyra flinched at the hurt in Sif's voice.

"I know I did. I'm so sorry. Loki can be trusted though. He's saved my life several times. He's not perfect, but he's trying." Kyra's confidence in him warmed Loki. After everything he'd done, she still saw the good in him. Sif, however, clearly didn't. "Right now there's a much bigger problem at hand. Asgard is in trouble. You know better than I how much of a threat Lorelei and Amora are."

Sif was silent for a long moment. Her eyes passed over the fallen Hydra agent. Then she slid her sword back into the sheath. "Fine. I will join you and help you take down Amora and Lorelei. But after that... I cannot stand by and live a lie."

Loki tensed. Sif was a liability, and he didn't know if he'd be able to convince her not to reveal his identity to all of Asgard, but right now he needed her help. Perhaps he could earn her trust back. "That's fair," he agreed, holding out a hand. Sif ignored it.

"You know a way out of here," she said. It wasn't a question. He nodded.

"What about him?" Kyra asked, nodding to the unconscious Hydra agent.

"Leave him." Loki felt no sympathy for the man. Kyra hesitated, but then her expression hardened.

"Which way?" she asked, turning her back on the man.

"This way." Loki nodded to Sif, but she motioned for him to lead.

"You first." The threat was clear in her voice. Kyra fell into line with him while Sif followed. This was going to be a fun journey.

...

Kyra felt none of the exhaustion that had dragged her down the day before. They made the journey swiftly, Kyra glancing back at Sif only to find her friend evading her eyes. She felt horrible that Sif had found out this way. She'd felt guilty about lying to her before, but Kyra hadn't trusted what Sif would do with that truth. It didn't make it any better that she'd lied to her. Sif was Kyra's first true friend, and she wasn't sure she could recover what she had lost. Did that mean she valued what she had with Loki more than her friendship with Sif? She'd made a promise not to reveal his true identity, and she had kept it long after his threats dissolved. Could she convince Sif not to spread word of who was really sitting on the throne? _Should_ she? That might be the end of their friendship if it hadn't ended already. Asking Sif to keep such a secret wasn't fair.

Loki led them up the side of one of the mountains, a trail wending the way and making the footing a little easier. Kyra wanted to shout for joy that she felt strong again. She hadn't told Sif yet. It didn't seem like the right time, but Sif noticed the difference.

"You're not struggling," she said from behind Kyra. Kyra fell back to walk beside Sif.

"Something about Loki's magic reacts to the serum. I think it's healing me," she said softly. Sif took a sharp breath, but she nodded.

"Then something good has come from this. I'm glad for that Kyra, truly."

"I'm not sure if it's a permanent solution or not." Kyra didn't want to get her own hopes up too much. "But it's a start."

"And it's possible because of him." Sif cut her eyes to Loki, and Kyra could see the conflict there.

"I know he's done terrible things. I do," Kyra whispered. "And you know better than I do. But that's not all of who he is. I'm not looking past what he's done, but sometimes people need a second chance."

"Ousting Odin from his throne isn't a good start," Sif countered, her fingers playing with the hilt of her sword as if resisting the temptation to draw it. She sent a scowl at Loki even though he had his back to them, leading the way toward the peak of the mountain. The dust stirred beneath their feet, and Kyra felt it sifting into her lungs. She couldn't wait to leave this horrid world behind and return to the fresh air and uninterrupted sunshine of Asgard, dimmed only by the presence of Amora and her sister.

"He could have killed him, but he didn't." Kyra knew she shouldn't be defending Loki, but she wanted Sif to see that he could be good, that the man she'd known before still existed. "You were friends once. He's not a completely different person from the one you used to know."

Sif bit her lip, and Kyra knew that whatever friendship they'd had before had been genuine. "It's a betrayal to the true king to allow Loki to unrightfully sit on the throne."

"No one ever gave Loki a chance when all he ever did was ask for one."

Sif shook her head. "You're not thinking clearly, Kyra," she told her. "You're in love with him."

Kyra had never let her thoughts go down that road. Not completely. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

"Don't deny it," Sif told her softly. "I see it in your eyes when you look at him, and I wish I could see the good that you do; I really do, but I can't."

"I respect that." Kyra would never ask her friend to forsake everything she believed in and betray her own morals. "I had plenty of chances to reveal him, but somehow he always gave me a reason not to—not through words or trickery but through his actions. He cares greatly for Asgard, for its people."

"So does Odin."

Kyra shrugged. "I never actually met him, but it sounds like he played favorites between the brothers."

"Thor...Thor has a way of shining while Loki likes to keep to the shadows. But Thor never would have resorted to trickery and deceit to claim the throne." Sif's voice grew defensive as she spoke.

"It's a fair point." And maybe she was crazy for not seeing it that way. When she looked at Loki she saw someone who had been overlooked all his life—all his _long_ life. He'd finally taken a chance, and perhaps it hadn't been the best way of getting the throne, but now he had the chance to prove he could be a good king. Would Sif give him that chance? "In the months he's been on the throne, has he given you any reason to doubt him?"

"I thought he was Odin all this time," Sif hissed. "It's just more of his same tricks."

"True, he was playing at being Odin, but he was also making his own choices and thinking for himself."

"He cares about you," Sif said after a long moment. "He went to Midgard with you."

"He did." Kyra didn't dare hope Sif was changing her mind.

"I just can't trust him. I do trust that he cares about you though, and that counts for something. Trusting him just goes against everything I believe in, everything he's done. I'm a warrior of Asgard, and I fight whatever threatens it. Right now, that's Amora and Lorelei. I can put my distrust aside for the time being."

Kyra let out a relieved breath. "Thank you. I think we can all agree that they are not fit to be Asgard's rulers."

"Do we have a plan?" Sif asked, speaking loudly enough so as to include Loki.

He glanced back. "You're going to help?" he asked, surprise dancing in his eyes.

"For now."

Loki lowered his eyes. "I understand. I'm grateful, Sif. Truly."

"Forget the silver words, trickster. I will not fall for them now or ever."

Loki held up his hands in defeat. "No tricks, Lady Sif," he told her. "I promise."

"I don't trust your promises, but I trust you want Amora and Lorelei out of Asgard as much as I."

"Correct. Lorelei can work her enchantments on any man, but Kyra can break her spell. With the help of my magic, she can keep Lorelei's abilities at bay without harming herself. If we can free enough warriors—the guards, the Warriors Three—

we should be able to overthrow them quite easily. We've already seen that they can break out of the dungeons, so I propose exiling them somewhere far away where they can't come back from."

"Does such a place exist?" Sif asked doubtfully. "They've both been exiled before, and that didn't last long."

"There are some places you can't come back from."

"You don't mean you're going to kill them," Kyra asked doubtfully. Loki's eyes softened when he caught her gaze.

"No. They might deserve it, but losing is a worse punishment." He glanced ahead. "We're here."

A gaping hole spanned before them, crooked in shape and leading into utter darkness. Loki drew up a hand and green flames leaped up from his palm illuminating the entrance. He led the way in, Kyra following so close that his cape kept brushing up against her. Sif held up the back of the line, and Kyra felt like they could take on the world together if only their little band could stay together for a little while longer.

"Will you be taking on another guise when we reach Asgard?" Sif asked bitterly.

"I hardly think storming into the city as myself will calm the situation any," Loki said, rolling his eyes back at her. "Although, Amora and Lorelei know my secret, so it's only a matter of time until it gets out anyway, I suppose."

"No one would believe them," Sif said.

"Perhaps not." Loki sounded doubtful. "They're not the ones I'm most worried about in that regard."

"I swear I won't reveal your identity as long as the sisters are in Asgard," Sif vowed. "You have my word."

"Thank you." Loki glanced back at her. "I know I've wronged you, but I do want to make things right."

"I'm not sure you can."

Loki stopped a few paces later. "Here." He let the flames illuminate the air before them, and Kyra saw a sort of ripple running through the air as if someone had taken a pair of scissors and sliced it in half. "Through here." He looked down at Kyra for a moment before taking a step forward and disappearing. Kyra started, suddenly fearful of walking through, but she forced herself to follow, Sif close behind her.

The sight that awaited her was not as pleasant as she had hoped. The grass was green and the sun was shining, but before them stood Lorelei and Amora and a small legion of guards. Loki stood with his hands raised in surrender. Amora gave him a wicked smile, running a nail down the shoulder plate on one of the soldier's arms. "You really shouldn't have told me where those secret entrances were, Loki dearest."


	35. Thirty-Four: Honesty

**Author's Note:** So I think we're nearing the end. I'm going to be really good and update consistently for the rest of this fic. I will actually follow through on my promise this time! Thank you so much to all you readers for sticking with me and leaving such wonderful comments. I've had such a blast writing this fic, and I will be sad to be finished but, if you follow my Game of series, I will FINALLY be working on the final installment of that. I'm honestly not sure after that... I think it's time I start focusing on my books and seeing where those take me. I've been posting fanfictions on here since high school, so for ten years? It's such a wonderful outlet for writers, and I've loved every minute of posting here. Marvel has been one of those things I love so much that I would burst if I didn't have an outlet for that passion - hence hundreds of thousands of words worth of fanfictions!

* * *

 **Thirty-Four** **–** **Honesty**

Loki should have expected his plan wouldn't work. He reached out a hand for Kyra thinking they could shatter Lorelei's hold on the guards but then, in unison, the guards raised their swords to their own throats.

"Try anything and they all die," Amora hissed through her teeth, eyes alight with glee. Any animosity she'd felt for her older sister seemed to have faded.

Loki hesitated for only a second. Damn. In the past, he might have considered fighting anyway, but now he wouldn't sacrifice the men. He slowly raised his hands, palms faced outward. They'd find another way.

"Still clinging to that useless illusion?" Lorelei asked, coming forward and roughly grabbing his arm.

"Asgard has enough enchanters about these days," he said. Amora grabbed Kyra and Sif—

Loki looked around him for Sif, but she wasn't there. Kyra seemed to realize the same thing, eyes widening. Had she not come through the passage? He started forward as Lorelei dragged him. "Try anything, and I'll slit her throat too," Lorelei threatened. Kyra was tripping over her own feet, and Loki feared for a moment that she was relapsing again. Then he realized she was feigning weakness. It gave them some small power over the sisters, and they needed all the help they could get.

They were led into the palace where Loki saw all his guards saluted the sisters, under Lorelei's spell no doubt. There had been very few Asgardians in the streets, and he hoped that wasn't a bad sign.

"The dungeons are getting a little crowded," Lorelei said as she shoved him down the stairs. "My enchantments don't tend to work on women, and we've had a lot of dissenters among them. However, we made sure to reserve a room for you."

Loki and Kyra were shoved into a very familiar cell. It was the one Loki had spent a good portion of time in and the one he had once sent Kyra to. "Now we can finally relax," Amora said as the energy walls went up, effectively trapping Kyra and Loki. "I kept looking over my shoulder, waiting for you to stab me in the back," she shot at Loki.

"I'd rather look into your eyes when I do that," he said. Amora tossed her head, storming out of the dungeons while Lorelei lingered.

"I do hope she doesn't die in there," she said, gazing at Kyra who had sunk to the cot. Her lips twisted in a smile before she left.

They were left in silence, and Loki turned to Kyra. She sat still with her head in her hands, and Loki felt a stab of worry. He went over and knelt before her, taking her hands in his. "Are you all right?" he asked, half-fearing the answer. Perhaps what had happened on Svartalfheim had just been a fluke. Perhaps her health would start deteriorating once more.

She raised her head, dark eyes bright. He could see the bits of amber in them this close. It brought him back to the night of the celebration when they'd danced. Everything had been so much simpler back then. "This seems to be happening a lot," she said, "us getting locked up. And getting thwarted by those two."

"Do you think Sif might help us?" he asked.

Kyra nodded. "I know you don't trust her, and she doesn't trust you, but she doesn't want Amora and Lorelei ruling Asgard anymore than we do. She must have thought there was a chance we'd be caught and hung back." Though she didn't say it out loud, he could hear the _I hope_ implied in her words.

"Even if she has no interest in saving me, she would save you," Loki told her.

"Can we break out of this cell?" Kyra asked, looking up at the energy wall. "With our combined powers?"

"It's definitely not an illusion, so I don't think it would work," Loki said. "These cells were meant to withstand very powerful beings." Himself included. If he could have broken out before, he would have. He felt frustration welling up again. He pulled his hands from Kyra's and began to pace the small cell, a rush of anxiety surging through him. He rubbed his hands together, trying to calm himself. He was flashing back to the day his mother had died, remembering the moment the guard told him the news. Thor hadn't even taken it upon himself to tell Loki in person. Nor had Odin. Maybe that was when Loki had decided he really wasn't a part of their family anymore. His mother had been the one keeping them all together, but without her they had nothing in common. His mother had always made him feel like he had a place in the family and, as a child, he'd never doubted that he belonged.

"We're going to find a way out of this."

Loki paused in his pacing. He wanted to believe her, but nothing had been easy since he'd tricked Odin and taken his throne. Maybe it was a sign that he wasn't meant to rule after all. He'd never doubted that before, but suddenly he felt the crushing weight of doubt.

Kyra stood, walking over to him. "You believe that, right?" she asked, her voice faltering. He realized that she was scared and that she was relying on him to assure her it would be all right. Her dark hair was falling across her face, and she pushed it back impatiently.

"I don't know what I believe anymore," he said softly. "Sometimes, despite being a god, I feel quite small and powerless." He clenched his fists. "I was in this cell when my mother was murdered by Dark Elves. I could do nothing to save her."

Kyra was silent, staring up at him with her dark eyes. He could see sympathy and understanding there. Of course she knew how he felt. She'd watched her mother die at the hands of a madman.

"You were close to her."

"She understood me in a way Thor and Odin never did." He was feeling calmer talking to Kyra. He flexed his fingers, letting them gently unfold. "She taught me magic and that I had a place in our family. Of course I didn't have reason to question whether or not I really was a part of the family despite the difference between Thor and me. Odin forbade me from seeing her ever again when I was sentenced to a lifetime in this cell. She came and visited me anyway using illusions." His vision blurred as he let his eyes go unfocused. "The last thing I said to her was that she was not my family…not my mother." And there was the truth of it all. Yes, he was angry with Thor and Odin but…he was also angry with himself for his careless words.

"She knew you didn't mean it," Kyra told him.

"You can't know that."

She shook her head, a small smile playing across her lips. "I may not have known her, but I know she could see straight through your tricks and illusions. It takes one to know one. What happened wasn't your fault, and she wouldn't want you to blame yourself."

"I wanted to make her proud." She would be heart-broken to see where their family was now, how scattered and broken it was. "But now I've just made a mess of everything."

Kyra shrugged. "So fix it," she told him. "You decided to be king, so take back your throne." He looked down at her, at the open honesty in her eyes. "Besides, I haven't fulfilled my part of the bargain."

He lifted a brow. "Oh?"

"You requested I help you prevent another surprise attack from Amora. She's accomplished several of those. Until she is banished from Asgard or rotting in one of these cells, I have not completed my part of the bargain."

"I'm not sure I've fulfilled my end," Loki told her, furrowing his brow. "I believe I was supposed to convince you that I'd make a good king. So far I've lost the throne several times—to Amora no less. My people have been enslaved, tricked, thrown into cells. Even I'm not convinced." He tried to lighten the mood, but Kyra didn't smile.

"You convinced me."

His eyes darted to hers, searching for any hints of sarcasm. They hadn't snapped at each other in so long that he'd almost forgotten they'd built their relationship on arguments and insults. It had evolved so much that he hardly remembered the way they used to be. There was no sarcasm in her eyes, no hint that she didn't mean what she said. No illusions, only honesty.

"You mean that. After everything."

"I really do. For you, it's never been a question of whether or not you deserve to be king. You've had this devout belief that you were meant to sit on that throne. Perhaps you haven't always gone about it in the best of ways, but you never stopped trying, never stopped fighting for your chance. I spent a lifetime living in the shadows, not fighting because I didn't really believe in anything—didn't believe that I had a chance at a happier life or that I even deserved one. I wish I'd fought harder, but I don't think I knew how until I came here. Until I met you. You taught me to keep fighting even when the whole world is telling you you can't do something. I thought I was going to die, but here I am because I kept fighting. And because of you. We're going to get your throne back together. We're going to keep fighting until you finally get the chance to prove to others that you deserve to rule Asgard, that you were meant to be a king."

Loki only heard half her words before he realized what a fool he'd been not to fight for something else all along. He closed the space between them before she'd finished her last word, catching her lips in a kiss that was neither gentle nor patient as the word 'king' died on her breath. He heard her gasp of surprise before she reached forward and grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer as if she needed him to breathe. Magic thrummed along his skin, and he could feel the static response of her own. Maybe she did need him to breathe. He knew if she wasn't by his side, the throne wasn't worth it. He didn't crave the solitude anymore. She'd made him want to be better, and he'd come to realize he cared more about Asgard, about its people than the throne itself.

Heat rose between them, Kyra's skin warm to the touch as he ran his hands down her arms. He grasped her waist, fingers tracing the subtle line of her curves. She twined her fingers in his hair at the nape of his neck.

"Why did I wait so long to do this again?" Kyra asked against his lips. He kissed her jaw in response, trailing down her neck to her collarbone.

"Because you're stubborn," he said, speaking against her shoulder. "And I was so afraid of losing you that I almost did."

"You saved me instead. I still don't quite understand how, but I know that I have never felt more alive than when I'm with you."

He brought up a hand to cup the back of her head, silky hair heavy against his hand. He pressed a kiss against her lips again, this time softer, a whisper that she answered with a gentle bite to his lower lip. She was nothing like the timid, scared girl he'd first met. She'd learned to stay in the shadows her whole life, that there was something wrong with her and that she needed to be fixed. Now she knew who she was, and she glowed with the confidence she'd found. If someone had told him that she would drive him crazy one day, he never would have believed it. Now he couldn't get close enough to her. Her back hit the wall where he'd once cornered her the very first night she'd spent in the cell. There were no knives in her hand this time. He braced his hands on either side of her head, leaning close until their bodies were flush. She had to tilt her head up to reach his lips, but she seemed just as desperate to be close.

He let his hands fall to her waist again as she leaned up, fingers brushing bare skin and sending shivers down her body. He ran a hand up her back, taking pleasure in the affect he had on her. When he'd been with Amora, it had always been a test of power, of will. With Kyra, she matched his passion but there was no contest. She understood him in a way very few if any ever had before, and he thought he understood her too though she always found ways of surprising him.

…

Kyra stared up at the ceiling, wishing she could see blue skies instead. She tilted her head sideways to glance at Loki. He was watching her, a faint frown on his face. They were on the cot, him sitting with his back against the wall, her lying down, her head rested in his lap. She was still flushed from their fervent kissing, her heart still pounding a little erratically.

"Amora and Lorelei still think I'm weak," Kyra said. They'd been mulling over ideas for escape for the past few minutes. "We can use that to our advantage. They think I won't use my powers, but I've already proven I can break Lorelei's enchantments."

"They won't give you the chance again if they can help it."

"We'll have to take them by surprise. I was thinking…if Lorelei can bend people to her will, what if I could do that too?" It was a stretch, and she had no idea how she'd even go about trying. "I don't know the first thing about my powers save that I can see through illusions and break them. I know there's more that I haven't had the chance to test. Now I can though—with your help of course."

"You won't get a second chance if that doesn't work," he said, unsure. He absentmindedly ran a hand through her hair.

"Tell me about you and Amora," Kyra said. He winced.

"You don't want to hear that story." She could tell he would break down if she asked again.

"Please? I promise not to judge. Sometimes people aren't who we think they are or they change." She just wanted the truth. She wanted to understand the tension between Loki and Amora and her hatred toward him.

"We were together a long time ago as you figured out," he conceded. "We grew up together and were good friends when we were children. She could always match me in wits and magic. As we grew older, feelings overtook friendship. We…were together for quite some time. I think she always brought out the worst in me. She and Thor never got on, and I was always resentful toward him because of that.

"Eventually I came to see just how manipulative she was, how controlling. I wanted to end things between us, but she refused to let go, refused to see that I didn't feel anything for her anymore. She'd gone too far so many times, and her actions bordered on cruelty sometimes. She was close to being banished, but she had a way of slipping out of trouble. She held on so tightly that I didn't know what to do to break free of her. Finally, I did the only thing I knew she couldn't forgive: I let her catch me with her sister. Lorelei was just as deluded as her sister and believed I had real feelings for her. They don't seem to understand that their charms don't work on everyone.

"Then I did something that really turned them against me. I tricked them and it resulted in Amora's banishment and Lorelei's imprisonment. I made sure they were split up, humiliated. It was for the best, but I'm not entirely proud of playing with their emotions. They deserved it, don't get me wrong, but I wonder if I'd been more honest if everything would have turned out differently."

"Amora and Lorelei don't seem very reasonable to me," Kyra told him. "If she'd really loved you, Amora would have realized she was suffocating you and let you go."

"I've never been good with…feelings or expressing them. It's easier to keep my distance, but it can be lonely," Loki conceded. "Maybe it was easy with Amora at first because there was nothing genuine about it."

 _Not like this_ , Kyra wanted to say, but she bit it back. She didn't know where they were, what to call this. She was too afraid to break it, so she said nothing.

"Well, she's absolutely bonkers so you made a good call," Kyra said, trying to lighten the mood.

Loki lifted a brow, and she smirked at his expression. "Humans," he said, rolling his eyes, but she thought she detected the smallest hint of affection in the word.


	36. Thirty-Five: Escape

**Thirty-Five – Escape**

Kyra had tried to escape a foster home once. Less than a year after her parents had died, it was her second home. Her first family had decided she was too sullen, too _odd_ to fit in with their family, so she'd been bundled off to another home. She didn't know what would happen if she left, but at seven she thought it had to be better than the overcrowded, dingy house that reeked of stale air and food past its expiration date. She'd read plenty of adventure books by seven, spent nights under blanket tents with her mom reading aloud to her in _Nancy Drew_. She thought it would be easy enough because the heroine of the story _always_ got away in the end. She always had happy ending in those stories. She was always brave and strong, and Kyra wanted so badly to be brave and strong as well. It used to be her parents had made her feel that way, but without them she had to find her own strength.

She'd waited until lights out before trying the window in her shared bedroom. It hadn't budged, and she'd noticed the line of nails hammered loosely into the top of the woodwork. She spent the next week trying to loosen the nails one by one. It was meticulous work, but she imagined she had been taken prisoner by the bad guys and she only needed to escape to get back to her real family. When she'd finally pried the last nail loose and managed to lift the creaky window without waking her foster sister, she'd felt a surge of excitement. Her room was on the second floor, but somehow she managed to grab onto one of the branches of the tree outside, climbing down. She ran to the only other place she could—home.

It was early in the morning by the time she reached it, her feet sore from running in worn sneakers. She didn't know how she made it—she didn't have a map of the city, just instinct. Her foster home wasn't too far away from her old neighborhood, and her feet had seemed to know where to go. For a moment, she thought everything was all right. The porch light was on, and there was a car in the driveway. She ran through the lawn, up the porch steps, but paused at the side window next to the door. A man was moving about inside, readying himself for work with his suit perfectly pressed and his briefcase ready to be filled. Kyra took a step back. That wasn't her father. Her father's shirts had always been wrinkled, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his fingers stained with ink from his ballpoint pens and scattered notes.

A woman hurried out to the man, handing him something and planting a kiss on his cheek. She had blonde hair, cut just above her shoulder—nothing like Kyra's own mother with her dark hair and olive skin. She felt a wave of sorrow as reality washed over her. She realized there was no going home. She had no home anymore, and she would never see her parents again.

The police found her wandering a few hours later, and she was brought back to the foster home. Her foster mother had awoken to find her missing and filed a report with the police, fearing the repercussions of having a child go missing. The next night Kyra found the nails were back, doubled in number and size, dug deep into the wood this time. She hadn't tried to escape again because she'd realized early on that she had nowhere else to go.

Now she wanted very badly to escape, and it wasn't quite so easy as climbing out a window and down a tree. Loki was pacing again while Kyra lay upside-down on the cot, her hair hanging off the edge, the tips pooling over the pale floor, and her feet flat against the wall. They'd come up with plenty of ideas for what to do _after_ getting out of the cell, but not so many for actually getting out. They'd tried breaking through with their combined powers but, as Loki had said before, it wasn't an illusion and nothing happened. Kyra had thrown one of the pillows from the cot at it, but that had only resulted in the fabric getting charred.

When a guard came to stand before their cell some thirty minutes after they'd ben thrust inside, Loki finally paused in his pacing. Had Lorelei and Amora changed their minds about keeping Kyra and Loki down here? Kyra wasn't sure what to expect from them. Clearly they wanted Kyra and Loki out of their way, but she didn't think they planned on killing them. It didn't steam like their style, and they'd already tried to banish them to Earth. Kyra drew her legs back, getting to her feet and coming to stand beside Loki.

Loki glanced down at her, his eyes reflecting the same question. Kyra prepared herself to use her powers if she had to. The wall fell, and Kyra waited for the guard to speak. Instead, she removed the helmet, releasing long, dark hair. Deep sapphire eyes lit up with her smile as she observed the looks of surprise on Loki and Kyra's faces.

"I told you it was a terrible plan," Sif said haughtily, casting a look at Loki.

"I'm impressed," he replied, cocking his head to the side to survey Sif.

"I didn't come through with you because I thought there was a chance Amora would be waiting on the other side. I didn't trust that she hadn't figured out all your secret entrances," she told Loki with a disapproving frown. "When I came through, you were gone, being led into the city by Lorelei and Amora and a fleet of guards. Please tell me you have a better plan for how to get the city back from them? You can break Lorelei's enchantment." She turned her eyes to Kyra.

"I can. She still thinks I'm weak, but she also knows I'm powerful. We've got one shot at this. If I can break her enchantment on the guards and on the Warriors Three, we'll have an army on our side. But there's nothing keeping her from enchanting them again. I'm hoping…" She hesitated, glancing at Loki. She knew he was doubtful, but she couldn't think of another way to stop Lorelei. "I'm hoping I can overpower Lorelei and then bend _her_ to my will."

"That would be incredibly satisfying," Sif said. "Can you do that?"

"I don't know," Kyra admitted. "I haven't tested it before, but I can create illusions. If nothing else, I can trick her into thinking I'm in control. I know there's more to my abilities that I haven't gotten the chance to test. It's now or never. If she retrains control of the guards, then there's no getting past them. It will be a battle, and we want to avoid that at all costs."

"What then? They've broken out of the dungeons before but will exile really keep them away for good?" Sif asked, trying her hair back into her usual pony tail.

"I think I might have an idea about that…" Kyra smiled and explained.

…

Together Loki and Kyra cast an illusion. Despite their own powers, Amora and Lorelei would not be able to see through the illusion without extra help. Kyra only hoped Amora hadn't helped herself to Odin's vault again with the alluring power of the Warlock's Eye.

They freed the other prisoners whom Lorelei and Amora had locked up—all women who were not affected by Lorelei's power but had rebelled against their seizing of the city.

"We do not know where the king is," one of the women said. "He disappeared, and we fear what could have befallen him."

Kyra and Sif glanced at each other. "He's safe," Sif finally said. "But he'll probably be back any moment to help take down the threat," she added, looking pointedly at Loki, testing him. Kyra couldn't tell if she'd gained any acceptance toward the god of mischief.

Kyra didn't know what to expect from Amora and Lorelei, but the festivities filling the throne room came as a surprise. The men stood with placid looks on their face, some with lust and admiration aimed at Lorelei. Lorelei's power was thick on the air, and Kyra tested the boundaries of it. The Warriors Three stood by the throne, weapons in hand in case anyone tried to rebel against the two sisters. There were few women in the room, but those who circulated had looks of fear and worry veiled behind smiles. It was all about control. There was something sad about it—that Lorelei believed she needed to force people to obey her even if it was a simple celebration.

"It's all a bit dull in here," Lorelei said, twisting a lock of red hair around a long-nailed finger. She clapped her hands together. "Can we have some music?"

A group of frightened looking woman took up some of the instruments in the corner of the room, picking up a tune that was forcefully uplifting. Considering Lorelei and Amora didn't mingle with any of the Asgardians, Kyra wondered what the point was of all this. They were Asgardian themselves, but there was such a disconnect between them and the others that they might have been from another planet entirely.

Kyra, Sif, and Loki had disguised themselves as guards and now stood along the walls with the others, taking in the details of the room. Lorelei and Amora were dressed in fine clothing, but Kyra saw the dangerous glint of knives strapped to their waists. Kyra's own knife was tucked into her belt. She would use it if she had to, but she hoped it wouldn't come to that.

"We free the guards and Warriors Three first…" Kyra hesitated. She didn't think Lorelei would have any qualms about using the people of Asgard against them after her trick with the guards earlier that day. "No," she corrected. "It has to be everyone. I have to break her spell entirely."

Loki glanced at her, concern dancing in the green of his eyes. "Are you sure you're ready for that?" She appreciated that he didn't ask if she was strong enough. But she was still recovering, and it would have been a valid question. She felt a tug of weariness, but pushed it aside.

"I have to be. If you help strengthen my power, I'll be all right." This was it. They got once chance at this, and Kyra refused to fail. "Sif, you need to get to Amora before she can do any more damage. Loki and I will take Lorelei."

Sif nodded in agreement. "Whenever you're ready."

Kyra turned to Loki. "Odin would fight for his kingdom, for his people. So would a true king."

He knew what she was asking, but he shook his head. "They're not ready for me, but I will fight."

Kyra nodded and changed her illusion to that of one of the guests so she could move about more easily, an unassuming woman with pale skin and hair. She moved toward the center of the room, mingling and slowly getting closer to the sisters. Amora looked a bit sour, lips pursed. Lorelei stood with her shoulders set back regally, and Kyra had a feeling she was in command of her sister though not through enchantment.

Kyra didn't know if she'd ever be ready, but she took a deep breath and reached for Loki's magic. She felt the familiar connection and breathed in sharply at the sensation as it warmed her. It strengthened her until she could no longer tell where her magic ended and Loki's began. Then she looked straight at Lorelei and concentrated.

Whenever Kyra had tried to use her abilities before, she'd felt some strain. Breaking illusions had always been the simplest of tasks compared to creating illusions, but breaking Lorelei's grasp on the people in the room was anything but simple. She hit a wall at first, watching as Lorelei blinked. She'd felt that. Kyra needed to dig in deeper, drive her magic against Lorelei's harder. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She let her magic and Loki's wash over her until she fairly hummed from it. She was strength itself, no longer a shadow being told something was wrong with her. She wasn't quite Asgardian, but she wasn't simply Midgardian anymore. She was somewhere in between, but she had found her home here. She would do anything to defend it and its people. Especially a certain few.

Despite Sif's reservations about Loki, she'd come to help them anyway. She'd been a true friend to Kyra from the very start, and it was something Kyra had needed—someone constant in her life who had her back. She'd never had that before, and she hoped Sif could forgive her for keeping Loki's identity a secret from her. She didn't want to have to choose between them. If it came down to that, she didn't think she could.

Loki's magic was wrapped around her, strengthening her. It felt intimate in a way that spoke of utmost trust and though he was an immortal god and she just a human, it made her feel like his equal. In Loki, she'd found someone who frustrated her and challenged her, pushed her to her limits but somehow kept her craving his company more and more each time they were separated. He had a way of getting under her skin that was both infuriating and irresistible. They'd become this sort of team together, unstoppable at their best. Every day had become an adventure and she found, much to her surprise, that she was up for whatever the universe threw her way. She turned around and found Loki, seeing straight through his illusion. He met her gaze and gave her a small nod. They were in this together, so how could they possibly fail? Kyra smiled at him, letting her soul warm it, hoping he could see everything she hadn't yet said in it.

Then she turned to focus on Lorelei's enchantment and shattered it.

The next few moments happened so quickly that Kyra wasn't sure exactly how it all fell into place. The second Lorelei's enchantment broke she doubled over. People stirred in confusion all around the room.

"You are not welcome here!" boomed a familiar voice and an illusion of Odin strode into the room, separate from Loki this time but brimming with his magic enough to look real. "This is the last time you disgrace Asgard with your tricks and enchantments." He brought down his scepter and it cracked against the floors with a resounding force like thunder.

Sif moved to restrain Amora, but the enchantress drew a knife, growling at Sif. Behind them, Volstagg, Hogan, and Fandral stirred. The guards around the room were slowly becoming aware of what was happening. The music had stopped and the Asgardian's were watching now, many of them glaring at Amora and Lorelei. Kyra was still focused on Lorelei. She'd broken the enchantment, but she wasn't quite done with her. She felt another wall as she tried to push her will into Lorelei's mind. She was scrabbling for control, and she could feel Lorelei resisting.

Lorelei slipped through her grasp, and one of the guards came at Kyra with a raised sword. Loki was there in an instant, his knives drawn, crossed over to take the brunt of the blow and push the sword backwards.

"Let him go!" Kyra shouted at the redheaded enchantress. Lorelei gritted her teeth as Kyra fought her.

She could feel Loki beside her, strengthening her, encouraging her without words. Kyra focused on creating an illusion. If she couldn't control Lorelei like Lorelei could control other people, then she would make her believe she could. She focused on her illusion empowering it with her need to stop Lorelei. She was the one in control here, and she wouldn't allow Lorelei to capture anyone else's free will.

Lorelei let out a cry and fell to her knees. It was working. _You are under my control now_ , Kyra thought fiercely. _You will not control_ anyone _else ever again_. Manipulating people like Lorelei did wasn't a game. Kyra had spent a lifetime dealing with the consequences of other people's actions, but playing god with people, controlling them like complicated marionettes, it had to end.

The power Kyra felt was both thrilling and frightening. Memories flashed before her. If she had been able to do this when she was a child… If she'd been able to keep Krentz from murdering her mother… Her life would have been so much simpler. Her mother could have completed the serum after that, saved Kyra from the imperfection that sat in her body like an assassin.

Lorelei cried out, and Kyra realized she was hurting her. Somehow the illusion was causing her pain, and that wasn't what she wanted. That wasn't her. She pulled back, and Loki grabbed Lorelei's arms.

"Leave her alone!" Suddenly Amora was lunging at Kyra. She'd slipped from Sif's grip. A knife gleamed in her hand, and Kyra barely managed to avoid the swipe. She drew her own knife, rebalancing herself.

Loki moved to grab Amora, but the enchantress was like a wild animal. She swiped at Kyra again, teeth barred. Kyra ducked, her reflexes quick after all her training with Loki. "You don't belong here," Amora hissed. "You're not Asgardian, and you're not good enough for a _god_."

"That's not my call to make," Kyra told her. She knew Amora was trying to bait her, but refused to let her. Amora could try to cut her all she liked, but only her knife could inflict the damage.

They moved in a dance, and Kyra felt her confidence growing. She didn't need illusions for this. She caught Amora's knife arm with her braced forearm, swiping her own knife and achieving a shallow cut on Amora's shoulder. The enchantress snarled as Kyra drew blood, eyes burning.

Everyone else had stepped back, and Kyra realized they believed she could win this fight. Amora was fast and strong—she was Asgardian after all, but Kyra had a determination that made her stronger and faster. She was tired of this woman, tired of her tricks and her carelessness. Kyra fended off Amora's flurried attack, the enchantress's knife nicking Kyra once, twice on her forearms. Kyra gritted her teeth against the pain. She swept a foot out, and Amora deftly leapt over it, but Kyra was already following it with her fist. Amora hadn't been expecting that. Perhaps it was too human to simply throw a punch, but it landed straight against her forehead, knocking her back, eyes dazed. Kyra grabbed Amora's arm and forced the knife from it. It clattered to the floor, and Kyra kicked it away from them. She raised her own blade to Amora's neck.

Something like fear sparked behind Amora's acid green eyes. "This isn't your throne," Kyra hissed. "You are not welcome here anymore."

"I couldn't have said it better myself," the illusion of Odin said.

Amora's eyes slid past Kyra, glaring at the Odin illusion before they caught on something else. A familiar voice cut through the room, melodic and airy. "I believe I owe you a favor."

Kyra pulled Amora with her, knife still pressed against her throat as she turned to face the elf queen. "Aelsa," Kyra greeted. "Perfect timing."

"What is _she_ doing here?" Amora asked, fear coating her throat.

"Queen Aelsa has so graciously agreed to take you and Lorelei on as prisoners," Kyra said, pushing Amora toward the elf queen. "She's got a very special place reserved for you—the Infinite Forest. I believe you're familiar with it."

Amora tried to struggle, but Kyra didn't relax her grip on her. She nodded her thanks to the woman who had gone to give the message to the queen. After they'd freed all the prisoners Lorelei had sent to the dungeons, Kyra had sent a group of them to overtake Skurge and send word to the elf queen.

"These will keep them quiet," Aelsa said, motioning to the two guards who stood at her side. They held metal mouth-masks, and Amora balked as one of the guards neared her.

"Odin is really Lo—" she tried to scream, but the elf placed the mask over her mouth, muffling her words. Lorelei had not spoken a word since Kyra had cast her illusion. She still looked dazed, and Kyra wondered what exactly she had done to the enchantress. She tried to tell herself Lorelei had deserved it, but Kyra wasn't cruel like them. She went to stand by Loki's side. He was still disguised as his usual guard, shoulders slumped in relief. His eyes darted to hers, and she could see the worry behind them.

"I'm okay," she said, reaching for his hand. His fingers were warm in hers, and she felt a pulse of magic at the touch. The elf queen missed nothing as she walked up to them, eyes flitting to the Odin illusion.

"You have our thanks, Aelsa," Kyra said.

"After all Asgard has done for me, it was only fair I return the favor," she said, including Odin in the conversation as if he were really there. "And it was my pleasure to help a friend," she added to Kyra. "I look forward to seeing Asgard's future," Aelsa said softly, tilting her head to the side to study Kyra and Loki. With a smile, she turned and motioned for her guards to bring the two sisters. Kyra watched as Amora and Lorelei disappeared leaving the Asgardians in peace.


	37. Thirty-Six: The Rightful King

**Thirty-Six** **–** **The Rightful King**

"It's miraculous," Mareth told Kyra as she studied the most recent scans of her brain. "The damage to your brain is knitting itself back together, and the serum is working in harmony with it. It's not a permanent fix," she added with a touch of doubt. "But something made the virus recede."

"As long as I'm exposed to that _something_ , will I be okay?" Kyra asked.

Mareth gave her a long look like she knew Kyra was hiding something but didn't press for the answer. "Yes, I believe so. You can live a normal life to the extent of a human lifetime."

"That's very good news." Kyra couldn't help the smile the broke out over her face.

"It is indeed." The woman smiled. "I'm very glad for that."

Kyra rose from the table, thanking Mareth profusely before joining Sif outside. "Well?" her friend asked.

"Loki's magic healed me," Kyra told her. "There's something about Asgardian magic that reacts to the serum, balances is it like it should be and keeps it from causing any damage. As long as I'm exposed to Loki's magic, I can live a full life."

Sif bit her lip, and Kyra knew she was still doubtful of Loki. It had been a week since they'd taken Asgard back from Amora and Lorelei, but Sif hadn't said a word about Loki's illusion though he was back to ruling as Odin. A part of her remained optimistic that Sif could look past Loki's past crimes and accept him—if not as king—as someone other than an enemy.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking," Sif said, and Kyra tensed. They were walking along the waterfront now, rows of flowers blooming in a multitude of colors, shapes, and sizes on the terraces above and along the path. "I once called Loki a friend. Actually, it wasn't that long ago. His betrayal was somehow less surprising than it should have been. I knew that, at times, he resented Thor—how he was always Odin's favored one. I just didn't realize how far that resentment went. I still don't approve of what he did to Odin or the fact that he's sitting on that throne pretending to be his father. But I also know it's not that simple." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "His magic is keeping you alive, and to condemn him would be to condemn you."

"I don't want you to keep this a secret if it goes against everything you believe in," Kyra told her. "I understand your concerns, agree with them even. I don't agree with Loki tricking Odin out of his throne and tricking his brother into thinking he's dead. But if he were to expose himself now, bring Odin or Thor back, he would end up right back in the dungeons. I can't condemn him to that. He's not a bad person though he has made bad choices."

Sif paused, leaning against the stone wall that ran along the water. Kyra joined her, watching the waves lap up against the shore below. "Can you honestly tell me that your faith in him has nothing to do with your feelings for him?"

Kyra hesitated before answering. It was a valid question, and she knew she had a soft spot when it came to the god of mischief. "Of course that gives me a bit of a blind spot, but I also have the perspective of an outsider—someone who hasn't met the real Odin or Thor, someone who wasn't here for what Loki did. I did watch the news a little after his attack on Midgard. That was frightening, and I remember wondering what sort of monster would kill innocent people. He was taught that war was the only way to achieve anything by Thor. By Odin. Not the slaughter of innocents per se, but is any war ever fought without civilian death? Loki's only ever striven to prove himself, to be accepted. Nothing that he tried worked, so he went for the dramatic. Maybe none of his actions up until this point were good or selfless, but I truly believe he cares about Asgard and its people. He's not in it for the glory because everyone thinks he's Odin. It means something more to him than that."

Sif seemed to ponder this, gazing out into the distance to where the lake fell away into the universe. Kyra would never tire of the view. She'd gazed at the stars as a child, lying outside on a blanket, ignoring the chill of the night air that nipped her skin. She'd wondered what else was out there, if it was better than the life she was living on Earth. Sometimes she had wanted to escape, to have a spaceship come and whisk her off to another planet altogether, another galaxy. She'd forgotten those daydreams until now. Falling through a tear in the fabric of the universe hadn't seemed like a gift at the time or an escape, but she'd fallen into a new life and now it sustained her as nothing on Earth ever had.

"I won't tell anyone it's him," Sif finally said. Kyra sensed a 'but.' She wanted to cut Sif off before it could be said, but she stayed silent and let her finish "But I can't stay here with him on the throne, lying to my friends every day, letting him constantly trick people into believing he's someone he's not. I can't accept him as the rightful king."

Kyra's heart fell. "I don't want to lose you," she told her friend. Would she have to choose? Her heart felt as if it were tearing in two. Her best friend or the man she was pretty sure that she was in love with.

"You won't lose me," Sif told her. "I will never stop calling you a friend, and this won't be forever. I just…need time. And I hope in time, he might be honest, let the people judge him as king without the illusions."

"I hope for that too. I don't know if they're ready, especially after Amora and Lorelei's disastrous takeover, but I hope they can accept him one day. Where will you go?" There was no use trying to change her mind. It was Sif's choice to make, and Kyra would respect that even if she wanted to adamantly argue against it.

Sif gave a little shrug. "There are galaxies I haven't explored before. Perhaps I'll join Thor on his quest for hunting down infinity stones."

"Infinity what?"

"They're powerful stones forged from the galaxy itself when it first came into existence. Thor means to find them, and perhaps he'd have better luck with me."

"What will you tell him?" It wasn't fair to expect Sif to lie to Loki's own brother.

Sif turned to look at Kyra. "It won't come up," she said. "It would distract from the mission, and I have a feeling what he's doing is quite important in the scheme of everything. After that…after that I might return and see if Loki can be the king Asgard needs. It goes against everything I believe in and yet…I trust you and you seem to trust him quite a lot. You believe in him, and I think that alone will make him a better person."

"I'm not sure I have that kind of power, but I'll try to steer him in the right direction," Kyra said.

"You have more power than you think," Sif told her. "You have the power to do good and to make the right decisions for Asgard. Maybe, one day, if the stars align just right, you'll even make a good queen."

Kyra's cheeks heated. "I…I don't know about that," she stuttered.

Sif shrugged again. "Anything could happen. Chance brought you here, and I think the universe might yet have plans for you."

"Then I only hope I can live up to the universe's expectations." Kyra played with the hilt of her knife, always at her side these days just in case. "Thank you. Thank you for giving him a chance when you had every right not to."

"I didn't do it for him," Sif told her. "Take care of yourself, Kyra." She pulled her into a tight hug. "I'll see you again soon."

"Do you know where you're going? Where Thor is?" Kyra asked, tears starting to pool in her eyes. She didn't want to let go of her friend.

"No, but it'll be an adventure." Sif finally pulled away, her own eyes a little glossy. "I'm so glad to have met you, Kyra Winters. You're a true friend."

Her forgiveness was more than Kyra felt she deserved after she'd deceived her, but it made her heart swell with relief. She was losing Sif, but not forever and not her friendship. "I will miss you so much," she told her.

"I'll miss you, too. You keep one brother in line, and I'll keep the other on track."

Kyra laughed through her tears. "Deal."

Sif smiled before turning and walking away. Kyra watched her go, staying at the wall for a long while afterwards. A part of her wanted to run after Sif and beg her to stay, but sometimes really trusting someone meant letting them go when they needed space. Kyra took a deep breath, wiping away her tears. She wasn't quite ready to go back to the palace, so she found her feet taking her somewhere completely unexpected.

Asta nickered in greeting as Kyra entered the stables, and Kyra stroked her velvety nose as the horse nudged her shoulder affectionately. "I trust you, girl," she said, running a hand down her neck. She led her out of the stall with a coaxing command. She didn't remember how to work the saddle or bridle, so she didn't bother with either, using a stool to climb atop the horse's back and twisting her fingers into her coarse mane. She clucked her tongue, and Asta started forward, letting Kyra guide her away from the city and to the path she and Loki had taken once before. She wasn't really sure where she was going, but she passed by the pathway that would take them down to the small lake and headed deeper into the mountains. She finally dared to push Asta a little faster, the horse's steady pace helping her to keep her balance.

The path grew shady as trees overtook it, growing close to the pathway and sending out their overhanging branches like reaching arms. Suddenly Asta turned left, heading toward what looked like a wall of vines growing down a rock face. Kyra tried to turn her back, but the mare gently balked, keeping on her path. She ducked her head and the vines parted around her. Kyra leaned low against her neck, pushing away the long vines as they brushed over her.

"Where are you going, girl?" Kyra asked as they passed through a narrow tunnel. Then the tunnel ended, opening up onto a vista like nothing Kyra had ever seen. Asta had known just where she was going. Kyra slid off of the horse's back as they reached the edge of a field. Long tendrils of grass came up to her hips, and she waded through them as they swayed in the soft breeze. On either side of the plain lay mountains peaked in snowcaps, and the temperature was a bit colder up here though the bright afternoon sun kept Kyra from shivering. The edge of the grass fell away into the universe, and it was like she could step right into the stars. She sat on the very edge, letting her feet dangle over the edge while Asta grazed nearby. Despite the daylight, she could see the stars far out, the looming darkness of space and a far off planet glinting in the distance. It stole her breath away.

She sat there for a long time, staring off into the universe. It still seemed like a dream being here, and she had the childish urge to pinch herself to make sure it was real. She finally got to her feet when the sun started to fade, and she realized she had a long ride back.

"You found my place."

Loki's voice startled Kyra, and she turned too fast, losing her balance. Loki's arm was around her in a second, strong and steady as he pulled her back from the edge. She fell into his arms, her heart skipping a beat. "You really shouldn't fall off of planets," he told her with a wicked smile.

"That was not my intention," she said pointedly, but she couldn't help her smile. He was warm, and the day had grown cold as the sun began its decent. "What did you mean 'my place'?"

"This is where I used to come when I needed to get away," he told her, not breaking her gaze.

"Asta brought me here."

"Good girl." The horse nickered in acknowledgement, and Kyra laughed.

"How did _you_ know I was here then?" she asked.

"Well, Asta was gone from the stables so I figured you'd taken her out although I found it a little hard to believe you willingly rode a horse." He lifted an eyebrow. "I was actually just coming here to think for a bit, but there you were about to fall off the edge."

"Only because you startled me," she said, wiggling from his grasp as if to escape. He didn't let go of her, and she stopped fighting. "What did you need to think about?"

"Nosey, aren't you?" His tone was teasing but with the tiniest hint of a challenge in it.

"Only because the only thing you should be thinking about right now is me. After all, I did just almost fall off the edge. You could have lost me."

"No, I wouldn't have. You're much too stubborn. You would have paddled your way back." She snorted at the thought. "What did the doctor say? Did you see her today?"

"I did. She said I was healing, that I was going to be able to live a normal life if whatever was healing me kept healing me."

"My magic." He twined his fingers with hers, holding them up as if to study them. "I suppose that means you'd better stay close." He said it tentatively as if he didn't quite believe she'd ever agree to that.

"That seems like quite an imposition," Kyra said, tilting her head up at him. "I'm not sure I'll be able to spend that much time around—"

He kissed her before she could finish her thought, slowly this time, hands pressing against hers and sending rushes of warmth down her body. The stars were reeling overhead, and Kyra could feel their stark cold bearing down on them. She felt anything but cold though as they kissed beneath the universe. Her heart was beating out a quick rhythm, and she could feel it pulsing through her veins. Their magic mingled, a glowing warmth that enveloped her, made her feel safe.

He pressed his forehead to hers. "In all honestly, I've gotten rather used to having you around," he said.

She smiled. "That's incredibly romantic thing to say; don't get sappy on me now. I can stand being around you, too." She pulled back a little so she could look at him, tilting her head up just a little. His eyes were dark as the sun faded, the stars reflected in them like the glassy surface of a mirror. "I don't want to go anywhere," she told him. "Asgard is my home now. And being around you makes me feel alive—and not just because you're literally keeping me alive—you make me feel like I have a purpose, that I can keep challenging myself. But I also don't want you to feel this obligation to me because of our connection."

"You're not an obligation, Kyra. Never think that." He let go of her hands to cradle her jaw. "I never expected the throne to be so lonely despite the fact that I tricked everyone into believing I was dead. I hadn't been on it long at all when you, quite literally, fell into Asgard. But you saw right through me right away. At first I thought you were a threat, that you'd tell someone who I really was and I'd end up right back in that cell in the dungeons. But you gave me a chance—the same chance I'd been asking for my entire life. You make me want to be more than I am."

Kyra flushed at his words. She'd never had that affect on anyone before. She didn't know what to say so she leaned up and kissed him again, bracing her arms behind his neck as he placed his hands against her back. She could have stayed out there for hours, but finally the sky grew dark, and it was time to ride back. Loki led the way out of his secret valley, back down to the city which glimmered with golden light even under the night sky. It took Kyra's breath away just as the universe did.

"It's so beautiful here," she said. "It seems surreal to call it home."

Loki glanced over at her. "We both came from different places," he said thoughtfully, "but perhaps we were always meant to come here."


	38. Epilogue

**Author's Note:** We're here. We've reached the end. I had such an incredibly fun time writing this story. Loki is just one of my all time favorite characters, and it was so much fun writing a story about him. Thank you SO MUCH for all your support. This story has way more reviews than any of my other stories, and I so appreciate you taking the time to leave a comment. You've been so supportive, and it's really encouraged me to keep going. I will be working on _A Game of Infinity_ next and after that...? I'm not really sure. I might honestly retire from writing fanfictions and focus on my books as I mentioned before. I've got an original trilogy that I'm working on (currently rewriting the second one) and my best friend and I are rewriting a book we've been working on and rewriting since we were 14. I've got a lot of ideas, but it's always been easier for me to throw myself into a fanfiction. I've definitely had way less time and motivation to write since I got a full time job, but I just need to be determined. We'll see what happens.

Thank you again, and I hope you enjoyed _A Game of Mischief_! All the direct quotes in this chapter are from _Twelfth Night_ and belong to Shakespeare. That I actually used Shakespeare quotes in something willingly is something that has never been done before.

* * *

 **Epilogue**

Loki started awake to the sound of his door opening and closing. He instinctively reached for his knives which he kept on his beside table.

"Loki?" He relaxed at the familiar voice, his hands dropping from the table. Kyra came further into the room, face pale in the faint light from the fire.

"Another nightmare?" he asked, sitting up and turning on the bedside lamp.

"I'm sorry," she apologized immediately as if waking him up was a crime. She could be so incredibly bashful despite everything. Several months had passed since their defeat of Amora and Lorelei, and every once in awhile Kyra would awake from a bad dream and find her way to his room.

"Come here," he told her, lifting a brow when she hesitated. They usually just sat beside the fire, but this time he gave her a challenging stare until she crawled into the bed beside him, pulling the blankets over her, and turning on her side to face him.

"Aren't you getting tired of me waking you up? I feel like a child. I used to wake my parents every time I had a nightmare, and I can only imagine how tired of that they got." She played with the edge of his blanket, and he captured her hand.

"No," he said simply. She blinked at him, her eyes huge in the low lighting, the black and brown merging into a single dark orb. Her cheeks were pink, and she looked away from his intense gaze, eyes captured by something on his bedside table.

"Is that?" She leaned over him, reaching for the thin book. He laughed at her struggle to reach it, her body leaning across his, stealing his breath for a moment.

"You could have just asked me to hand it to you," he said though he wasn't complaining.

She ignored him though she used a hand to push herself back off his chest, smirking down at him as he let out an 'oof'. "You stole my book," she accused, brandishing the play she'd brought to Asgard in her tattered school bag.

"Borrowed. I was going to give it back," he told her, lying back as she fluttered through the worn, dog-eared pages. "'Be not afraid of greatness. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and others have greatness thrust upon them'," she quoted.

"Which am I, I wonder?" he pondered aloud. Kyra gave him a scrutinizing look.

"Not afraid of greatness, that's for sure," she told him before flipping to another page. "'How does he love me? With adoration, with fertile tears, with groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire'." Kyra snorted, and Loki rolled his eyes at the mention of thunder. "Why don't you ever say things like that to me?" Kyra asked him seriously.

"Probably because you would punch me in the mouth if I tried to talk to you that way," he reasoned. "Why do you love that play so much anyway?" he asked.

Kyra sighed. "I don't know. It's just…well, it's kind of like this game of illusions where no one is as they seem but despite all that, people fall in love with the ones they're meant to be with. And Viola can stand up for herself in a society where really no one listens to you unless you're a man. But because she's dressed as a man, she's able to express how she really feels and, in the end, the duke loves her for it when she reveals herself to be Viola."

"Maybe illusions don't work when you love someone," he said softly. She was looking back at the play, fingers thumbing through the pages. "My turn." He snatched the play from her, earning himself a scowl. He flipped through the pages until he found a quote she'd underlined and highlighted _and_ added little stars next to. His face broke out in a grin.

"What?" she asked, trying to snatch the book back. He held it over his head, making her reach for it. "'Love sought is good, but giv'n unsought is better'." He read quickly before she could grab the book. Kyra stopped struggling for the book. He set it aside. "You really liked that quote."

She turned her back to him, and he drew himself up on one elbow so he could watch her profile. "I thought it was interesting. The idea of not looking for love, but finding it anyway, perhaps in the most unexpected of places. There's always been something about predictable love that's bothered me—there's nothing challenging about it. I don't believe in love at first sight because it's never that easy. You can't possibly know how you feel about someone the first time you look at them. You have to fight for it."

Considering he'd thrown her in the dungeons and pulled a knife on her in the first few hours of them meeting, he was grateful for that. He hadn't quite let his mind wander down the path of his feelings for her. He wasn't used to having feelings like that—strong feelings, genuine feelings. It had always been a bit of a game in the past, never something that would last. He didn't know how to express what he felt; it had always been a struggle for him, and his emotions tended to come out in a chaotic tsunami with maximum damage in its wake. Whatever was between Kyra and him had become this constant in his life that was chaotic but somehow didn't leave a mess in its wake. She smoothed out the rough edges and kept him on course when he was in danger of veering. He was afraid of messing it up because it meant more to him than he was ready to admit. Part of it was that he simply liked having her around. She made his life more interesting when it was easy to get caught in the monotony of meetings and his constant illusions. He couldn't exactly express himself when Kyra was the only one who truly knew who he was, but around her he could. She pushed him to be better without compromising who he was.

He brushed a hand against her back. Her skin was warm beneath the thin cotton of her nightshirt. The glow of the fireplace gave her skin a rich glow, making his own skin seem even paler. "What's wrong?" She was hard to read sometimes, moods shifting faster than he could keep up with. He liked to think he knew her now in the months she'd been in Asgard, but she always seemed to be just out of reach.

"Nothing's wrong," she said hastily, but he didn't believe her.

"Kyra." Just saying her name seemed to undo her. She turned back to him, eyes glossy.

"There's something I've been wanting to say to you for awhile now, but I can't seem to get the words out. I can think them in my head—god they scare me, but they're there, this constant storm cloud filling up my brain. I just realized why I can't seem to say them." He hardly dared breathe at she spoke, afraid he'd scare her away. "The last person I said them to was my parents, and I lost them. I'm afraid I'll lose the people who mean the most to me."

Sif had left—because of him—and Loki felt the weight of that. "I'm not going anywhere," he told her, rubbing a thumb across her cheek. One of her tears rolled down his skin, hot to the touch. "Just tell me what you want to say." He wasn't going to put words in her mouth; he needed her to say them.

"You are one of the most irritating people I've ever met." Not what he'd expected her to start with.

"That's the last thing you said to your parents?"

She slapped his shoulder lightly. "I wasn't done. _But_ , despite that, I love our arguments. I love when you make me angry because you usually make me _think_ as well, question things. I'm going to spit it out because I feel like I'm rambling on and at risk of making a complete fool of myself."

"Never."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help the smile that followed. Then it faded, and her eyes took on a serious look. "What I'm trying to say, very unsuccessfully, is that—"

She took a deep breath, but Loki grabbed her waist and pulled her down before she could finish or muster a protest. She tensed a moment before melting against him, palm flat against his heart. "You're really not helping," she said.

"I already know what you're trying to say, and if it's that hard to say then maybe it's not the time. When you're ready, you'll find the words you need to say to me, but until then can't we just enjoy this?"

She let out a relieved breath, tucking her head against his shoulder before pressing her lips to the hollow of his neck. "I'm not a poet or a playwright, so sometimes I find it a little hard to express myself."

"I'm not sure it always takes words," he suggested, running a hand down her back. She smelled like the familiar mixture of jasmine and vanilla that always seemed to hover around her. He ran his knuckles down her arm next, and she shivered though the warmth of her skin told him she wasn't cold.

"Can I stay here tonight?" It was something that had never been breached despite her visits after nightmares. He'd spent so many nights alone, he'd forgotten how it felt to have someone warm lying beside him, and he wasn't sure he'd ever wanted anyone else to stay more than he wanted Kyra to.

"Of course." He reached over to turn out the lamp as Kyra nestled into a more comfortable position, pulling the blankets tighter around her. "Was it a bad nightmare?" he asked. Sometimes she talked about her dreams, other times she preferred to forget them.

"Not so bad now," she murmured sleepily.

She fell silent, and he prodded her shoulder lightly but she was completely out. At first it felt strange having someone beside him. Back on Earth, in the hotel room, it had felt different. Rushed and a flurry of desperation and emotions. Kyra had been frightened, and he'd tried to be what she needed, but now it felt natural, unrushed. She wasn't dying, and it was no longer a mad race to the end. He settled back against his pillow, letting his eyes flutter shut as exhaustion overtook him. He thought back to her words—the words she'd tried to get out. He could tell she wasn't quite ready to say them, but he wasn't sure he was ready to hear them either. It wasn't that he didn't reciprocate what she felt, but he wasn't ready to confront those feelings—not in words. Actions, perhaps, but he still had a long ways to go. Trusting didn't come easy, but he trusted her. She had become a friend, someone to talk to. He wasn't good at the deeper emotions, and he couldn't express them any better than she could. He thought back to that confounded play. _'_ _O time, thou must untangle this, not I. It is too hard a knot for me t'untie.'_

It would take time for him to work through the tangled knot of his emotions, time for him to learn how to express them. He cursed the play and how much sense it made now. Perhaps Midgardian playwrights weren't half bad. It did make him want to continue on with his own play. Perhaps a play that was about him, but not for the same reasons as before. It wasn't about being a hero but gaining acceptance in his people's eyes. If _if_ he could sway them, help them to see that his intentions were not always bad, maybe some day he could be king in his own right and in his own skin. He could drop his illusions and be himself.

And that was the root of it all. Illusions had been so much of his life—lies and tricks and mischief. He was the god of mischief after all. But when you're constantly the cleverest person in the room, life could grow dull. Kyra saw straight through his illusions, straight through his lies. She had wits to match his and the compassion to be patient with him. She was still mortal, and that frightened him. Her life was fleeting even if her health had been restored, but he couldn't let himself be so afraid. He'd lost people he loved before. It had nearly destroyed him, but he'd found the strength to keep going. Thor loved a mortal woman, and he would live just as long a life as Loki. There was that _word_. He kept thinking it, but saying it aloud felt too risky.

Time. Everything would come in time. He held onto the hope that in time he could truly be king, that he could reveal himself and have the support of his people. Even he couldn't see the future, but it didn't feel so impossible anymore.

…

Kyra woke early the next morning. The fire had died down in the grate leaving a coolness lingering in the air. She pushed the blankets aside, careful not to wake Loki. The sun hadn't yet risen so she dressed and went out to the parapet at the front of the palace to watch it rise. At the first hint of its rays, the palace around her began to light up with gold, glinting like a dragon's hoard that had been melted into one cohesive building. The sun played along her skin, warming her though the morning air was cool and crisp. Her deep blue dress fluttered around her, the loose fabric soft as silk, cinched at her waist with a silver belt. Her hair was loose, and she had to keep pushing back the wild tendrils that attached themselves to her eyelashes and lips.

She felt a warm arm wrap itself around her waist, felt the familiar tug of magic, and leaned back into Loki's chest. They didn't speak as the sun continued to rise, flooding the streets and turning the rivers and lake into molten gold. The city below began to stir as the Asgardians awoke to begin their day. There was a sense of calm that felt well deserved after the chaos of the last few months.

Once the sun had fully risen, Kyra turned in the circle of Loki's arm so she could face him. "What are you going to do today?" she asked. The sun was reflected in his eyes, turning the bits of green gold.

"I was actually thinking about writing a play."

"You're back to _that_ again?" she asked, lifting a brow and letting out a little huff of exasperation.

"Hear me out," he started. "It's about _me,_ but not for the reasons you might imagine."

"Hmm, I'm imagining a rather grand play where, let me guess, you're the hero?"

"Yes, but that's not going to be the point. Not really." He waved his free hand about as he tried to explain. "I mean, how can I not be the hero when it's about me, but Thor will be there too, and Odin might make a small appearance. Perhaps. If the mood suits me."

Kyra slid from his arm, starting along the parapet. She sent a smirk back at him, inviting him to walk with her. "Explain to me this play about you where you're the hero but that's not really the point."

He caught up with her, a smile growing on his face when he realized she was going to humor him. "Well, it starts like this…"

 **The End**


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